Flood of Dragons
by Red Crown
Summary: With the Middle East and Russia on a slow path to recovery, China has become desperate for oil. A rogue Chinese General decides to take advantage of the situation to further his own deep political goals. The only thing standing between him and a flood of violence are a mercenary air wing composed of allied fighter pilots and a coalition of uncooperative South East Asian nations.
1. Dark Horses Air Wing

**Red Crown: I'm back with a vengeance. Okay so for those of you that don't know this is set in the real world. It is not an Ace Combat fiction story. Also I want to make something clear. I'm trying to write this story in a manner so a person who is new to it would be able to understand what is going on without having to go back and read my other story. Whereas my previous story had significant religious themes attached to it this one will not. I am still in the process of trying to get my previous story published and I'll let you know how that goes.**

**Also, quick word about the callsigns of some of my characters. After reading some reviews and some personal messages from friends that were very helpful, I have decided to change them. I went back in chapter 34 of High Calling and made the alterations as well. The callsigns of my characters are now as follows:**

**Tony-Luck**

**Sophie-Frost**

**Chance-Mozart**

**Nathan-Bear**

**Patricia-Stix**

_"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."_

― Laurell K. Hamilton, _Mistral's Kiss_

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: _**"Dark Horses Air Wing"**_

_**Date: Unknown**_

_**Time: Unknown**_

_**Location: Unknown**_

_Tony "Luck" Richardson banked hard in his F/A-18E Super Hornet and turned head on with the Su-50. He could feel all of his emotions enhanced: fear, anger, happiness, love. Once he got closer to the Russian stealth fighter he could see that on the side of the fuselage was a black star that was outlined in red and had a red outline of the uni-code symbol for the black queen chess piece centered. A warning went off in his cockpit to indicate a gun jam. The most enhanced emotion he could remember feeling at that moment was a strong hatred as he turned directly for the Su-50 and aimed for a head on collision. As the distance narrowed to nothing he let out a battle cry._

* * *

**Date: December 10, 2016**

**Time: 0450 hours, 4:50 A.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Luck awoke to the feeling of a pair of gloved hands shaking him awake. The light shined brightly on his face. With his caramel colored skin and mixed heritage he had facial features that were both European and African-American. The lights in his room were on to reveal his very short black hair and a scar on his left eyebrow that practically split it in half. His lean and muscular body frame sat up in his bed. His piercing dark brown eyes scanned the room startled.

"Tony, you are alright!?" he heard a British woman say. "Everything is going to be okay! It was only a dream!"

When his eyes finally focused he saw another pilot from his squadron that was standing right in his room: Sophie "Frost" Noble. Frost had straight wheat-blond collar-length hair. Her white skin was paler than usual since she had been accustomed to doing night ops for the past two-months, which also explained why she was up at this hour and dressed in full flight gear. She had a slender figure and was on the shorter side of the height scale. The most astonishing things about her were her elegant Anglo-Saxon facial features and lively jade green eyes. She was an ex-pilot of the Royal Air Force that was battle hardened from doing the same missions that Luck had done. She was also just as much in love with him as he was with her.

As Luck calmed down he merely said, "I'm alright. Thanks, Sophie."

Frost relaxed somewhat and sat on the bed next to him. "I could hear you screaming when I was right outside your barracks, but you locked your door this time. I had to pick the lock to get to you."

The American naval aviator smiled, "Always have my back don't you?"

Frost half smiled at him before asking, "Did you have a dream about him again?"

The American fighter pilot's face became serious as he remembered exactly who she was referring to. "Yeah, it was him. I don't know why this is still haunting me. It's been over a year now."

"I have told you to seek help for that."

"Why do I need help when I got you?" he asked rhetorically with a smile.

Frost gave a light laugh. "I'm sure I'm great medicine, but there are some things I just can't help you with."

In response to this Luck gently grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace, which she completed by closing her arms above his shoulders and around his back. "I don't need some psychiatrist that I've never met before poking around through my memories."

Even so, Frost pressed on. "I know you don't want to but it might do you some good."

"I'll think about it," he responded automatically.

Frost knew that meant he really was not going to go to a psychiatrist, at least not until something bad happened. Just as Frost had done many times before she whispered prayers of comfort and healing for him. She really hoped that one day his PTSD would go away. At the same time the British woman was worried for Luck. She ultimately worried that his unwillingness to seek help would cause the old wounds from combat trauma to eat him away on the inside.

* * *

**Date: December 10, 2016**

**Time: 1330 hours, 1:30 P.M. (Moscow Time)**

**Location: Red Square, Moscow, Russian Federation**

The snow was heavy and left dirty patches of slush on the streets. The air was still crisp and cold while an overcast of clouds rested over the city. In the center of Red Square, six Spetsnaz operatives brought a man in chains to an armored car, with two more parked nearby. The man was very tall and has a powerfully muscular body frame. He was wearing an orange prison suit and boots, while his face was masked with a black hood. With a hard shove, the Spetsnaz forced the man into the back of the car and slammed the doors shut. All three vehicles start up their engines and a police officer opened the gates, letting them exit.

Outside the gates they were met with a restless crowd that numbered well into the thousands, all lined up near the streets. Police officers were struggling to hold them back and keep them off the road. The citizens had banners of support for the man in the armored car and were chanting in a constant rhythmic manner, "Free the Hero of Russia! Free the Hero of Russia! Free the Hero of Russia!…"

Inside the back of the armored car the sounds of the crowd were muffled. The masked man sat alone with a young woman, who possessed long flowing light brown hair and light brown hazel colored eyes that at the moment were reading papers in her hand regarding the prisoner transfer. On her face were a pair of narrow silver framed glasses. Being of Ukrainian descent, she naturally possessed strong Slavic features and beauty rivaled that of a Maxim magazine model. She herself also wore a dark grey FSB uniform, while the chest of her coat held a government issue ID card that indicated her name was Lena Studilina.

Lena put the papers down and looked at the man with sorrowful compassion. In a reassuring voice she said, "Don't worry, Krylov. This is only temporary. At least they can't kill you now. I've made sure of that. They have no choice but to release you."

The voice that replied back from the masked prisoner was deep, powerful, and absent of any emotion. "They will never release me, Lena. Not after what I have done. I'm simply too dangerous for them to let free now."

Lena's face looked only sadder as she heard those words. She turned her gaze outside and watched with hope as the armored car drove by the many citizens that were showing their support for his release. She looked up into the sky and could see four Russian Air Force Su-27 Flankers flying a combat air patrol over the scene. Even inside the confines of the car the roar of the powerful jet engine turbines could be heard over those of the crowd. The masked prisoner's hands twitched at the familiar sound.

* * *

**Date: December 10, 2016**

**Time: 1200 hours, 12:00 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Scattered clouds were at lower altitudes and the sun was bright above the Philippine Islands, with the air high in both humidity and temperature. From the air, Palawan looked like a long strip of land, lush with vegetation and wild life.

This particular air base was part of a growing effort by the US and allies to overwhelm the Chinese efforts to cripple air power. The US had decided to build several air strips scattered throughout the pacific with the hope that if a conflict were ever to break out, it would be extremely difficult to knockout every single air field in the area. This air base that the Dark Horses were stationed at now was simply called Palawan Air Base and was constructed several miles southwest of Puerto Princesa International Airport.

Luck walked outside to check on his plane: an F/A-18E Super Hornet. His Super Hornet was a Block II model, the same as those operated by the US Navy, and was painted with the classic gun-metal gray of the Navy, but had no identifying markings. The Super Hornet was the US Navy's premier tactical strike fighter; it was by far the most reliable and flexible strike fighter in the US arsenal. It could be put through its paces in harsh environments and still operate perfectly fine. It also had several low observable features such as some stealth shaping and radar absorbent coatings to give it stealth capability sufficient for most operations. For everything else it had an electronic warfare suite. It even had a large payload capacity for a fighter its size and was very maneuverable. It did all of this while remaining one of the cheapest fighters on the international arms market.

He did a radio check and turned on his radio to make sure that it was working properly. Just when he turned it on a voice spoke on the frequency it was set to.

"Cobra One-one, Tower, requesting permission to land."

"Tower, Cobra One-one, you are cleared to land."

Out of the sky in the distance appeared another F/A-18E Super Hornet. Unlike the jet Luck was checking this Super Hornet still had US Navy decals and squadron markings. The jet descended and approached the runway. The landing gear pounded the airstrip before the pilot hit the brakes to slow down.

Luck knew at that moment that it was time to head to the briefing room. He immediately made his way to the Preflight Building, which had the briefing room in it. When he opened the door he found only two other people in the room. They were two of the original members of the Dark Horses squadron and also pilots of the F/A-18E Super Hornet.

The first was a Canadian man of middle height. He had dark red hair that was short and looked similar to that of an Ancient Greek warrior. He had bold blue, green eyes and pale white skin. On his flight suit patch was the name Chance "Mozart" Pitman. He had earned the nickname "Mozart" because his family had tried with all their might to get him to become a master pianist, despite the fact he wanted to join the military. In the end he told his parents that he was practicing the piano in France and went into the Royal Canadian Air Force.

The other was a woman of medium height who had silky, long black hair that went down to her elbows. She was of Chinese descent and had a very lean, lanky body frame, which earned her the callsign that she carried. Her name tape read Patricia "Stix" Ironheart. She was born in China and had dual Chinese-American citizenship. She may have looked frail but her personality was tough as nails.

As Luck looked on the only white board in the room an expression of uncertainty appeared on his face. "I'm really starting to hate this," he said to his two comrades. They both nodded with agreement.

"Look at the bright side. They are only integrating two foreign squadrons for two months and one of them we know for certain speaks English," said Mozart.

Stix merely grabbed a piece of chewing gum and popped it in her mouth before she spoke, "We've been a squadron for well over a year and we've always operated fine with only five pilots and five warplanes. With three Rhinos, one Strike Eagle, and one Typhoon we took out an entire Middle Eastern warlord army without anyone's help. I mean, sure the squadron used three different types of aircraft and we drove the maintainers crazy with what we did to those planes, but we didn't deserve to be punished liked this."

On the board was written the simple words in big bold letters: DARK HORSES AIR WING.

Luck let both his friends know the rest of his thoughts. "We did just fine as a squadron and there was much less bureaucratic red tape between us and any fighting that needed to be done. We were already a multinational unit but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to turn us into a smelting pot of foreign allies. Turning us from a squadron into an air wing might have been the worst idea they've had yet. I'm also wondering why they didn't want me as the CAG."

Mozart merely replied, "They probably didn't put you at the head of the air wing because they wanted someone who wouldn't try to fight more multinational integration like you did."

Luck shrugged. "I had good reasons for it."

"Oh damn," said Stix as she looked out the window. "Here he comes."

Luck and Mozart looked in the direction she was looking and as they saw who "he" was they felt even more uncertain about their future.

Mozart simply said, "I hope he runs the squadron in a very relaxed manner like you did, Luck. I think I could get along with that."

The man was walking right for the door. He was very tall with broad shoulders and had bright blond hair and intense blue eyes. His skin was white, but had been tanned by many outside activities and sun exposure. He had the most serious expression on his face. His jaw was unusually square. The name tape he had was labeled with the name Ryan "Duke" Wellington. On his left shoulder was the patch for an F/A-18E squadron. Also on his flight suit was a patch for the 1st place award of the TOPGUN fighter weapons school at NAS Fallon, Nevada. He looked to be approaching his late thirties.

As soon as he walked in the room all three Super Hornet pilots took their seats. Duke immediately walked right in front of them and took charge. With a bold voice he said, "My name is Lieutenant Commander Ryan Wellington. You may call me by my callsign 'Duke.' I'm your new CAG and you are the home-grown part of my air wing now. You all know that our mission is to keep our foreign allies in this area well trained and prepared for any altercation with a rising China. Since I'm trained for the Rhino I'll be flying right alongside you guys. I want all of you to be at the top of your game and giving your best in the most professional manner. Never forget that while you are here you represent the United States and should be on your best behavior. Understood?"

The three original members of the Dark Horse squadron simply nodded their heads in understanding. Just then Duke looked at all of them and paused for a moment. His eyes stopped on Stix who was sitting there quietly chewing her gum and listening carefully to him. "Miss, spit that gum out. No more of that during any briefings. It's unprofessional. You also need to cut your hair so that it's collar length. Long hair is unprofessional and you need to look clean."

Stix stared at her new CAG with disbelief. "Excuse me?" she said slightly baffled.

"You heard me. Spit that gum out and cut your hair. We aren't some rag-tag GI Joe squadron. We're professionals and we are going to look the part. Understand?"

Stix reluctantly stood up and spit her gum into a nearby trash can.

Duke then said, "I've read all your documents and files that are available regarding your previous service records. They are all very impressive and I look forward to working with each of you. Reporting time is zero-seven-thirty tomorrow. I expect you all to be up early and ready to go for training. You are dismissed."

As they were getting up Duke said, "Luck, can you stick around for a minute."

Mozart and Stix both exchanged a curious look with Luck as they exited the room, leaving him and Duke alone.

"Duke, what can I do for you?" Luck asked.

Duke then looked directly into his eyes and said, "I understand that you were formerly in command of this squadron before I took charge. The original members of the Dark Horses will still be the most experienced pilots of this air wing when it is fully brought together." His eyes narrowed with meaning. "They all trust you greatly."

Luck remained silent and simply decided to let Duke continue.

The tall blond pilot then said, "When it comes down to it, I need you to always be on my side. You understand?"

Luck narrowed his eyes on him. "Not quite."

"In order for this air wing to work I need you to not disagree with me on anything for any reason, especially my decisions. I need you to always be on my side."

_This is not good,_ Luck thought. "I won't disagree with you in public if that's what you're asking, but if you run an idea by me I'll always give you an honest answer of what I think."

"I don't have to run my decisions by you. I'm the CAG. I just want to make sure that there isn't any infighting within the air wing," Duke said.

"Sir, if you want to avoid infighting you should make me the air wing's DCAG."

"I can't make you second in-command."

It was then that the former leader of the Dark Horses began to get slightly frustrated and decided to press forward his case for the spot. "Sir, I know these men and women much better than anyone. I've led them for a year and bled right alongside them in combat. They trust me. I'm also more experienced than anyone you have available to you. I'm your best option for DCAG."

"You also had a long term unduly familiar relationship with one of your subordinates."

_Ouch,_ thought Luck. "My relationship with Frost? That started when the Dark Horses were made. Why is that suddenly a problem now?"

"Because now you are no longer operating in the dark like you used to be. Now you are in a multinational air wing and we represent the United States. I will not have any fraternization within my chain of command. That's unprofessional. However, I can make you DCAG if you end your relationship with her."

A flash of disgust entered Luck's eyes. "That's not going to happen."

"Then your relationship can continue, but only as the same rank." Duke replied simply. He then spoke with some reassurance. "You're both squadron commanders and will both have a full squadron at your disposal. Nothing about that will change."

Luck simply nodded and said, "Very well."

Nodding in turn, Duke decided to conclude with. "The Dark Horses are mine now Lieutenant. You may not like it, but that's how it is." he then looked Luck dead in the eyes. "As long as you adhere to that notion, we will get along just fine. Understood?"

Again Luck simply nodded.

Satisfied, Duke finished. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

Upon hearing those words Luck turned around and walked outside. A few seconds later, he found Stix and Mozart standing there, waiting for him.

"What was that about?" asked Mozart.

Luck looked as though he were going to spontaneously combust. "I'm never going to have command of the air wing unless I end my relationship with Frost."

Stix popped another piece of chewing gum in her mouth. "Duke indeed," she growled. "This guy's going to be hell for us, I just know it."

The three Super Hornet pilots headed to the wardroom on the base, which had a pool table, a coffee-maker, a vending machine, a sofa, and a large TV.

Inside the room were the other two remaining original pilots of the Dark Horses: Frost and Bear, both of whom were watching the TV. Nathan "Bear" Zachary was a former pilot of the USAF. He had messy brown hair and bright green eyes. His facial features were strongly Italian and he had white skin that was sunburned at the moment. He got his callsign after he had been tortured in Iran and had to go through physical therapy to requalify as an F-15E Strike Eagle pilot. He was usually known for saying one too many corny jokes on one too many occasions.

The TV was on the CNN channel and all of the pilots quickly gathered around to watch as a young female news anchor covered the various topics of interest. "Russia is commemorating its first month since the end of the civil war, a war that was fought between government loyalists and ultra-nationalists. With the ultra-nationalists defeated the country seems secure once again from having a radical rogue government in power. However, this seems to be of the least concern to the United Nations. The world is still suffering from a shortage of oil as the recent war and a series of meteor strikes have left the Middle Eastern governments and their armed forces in shambles. Without the ability to provide security for oil deposits the Middle East has not been able to rebuild the oil industry fast enough to meet growing demands from the rest of the world. The United States has had to focus on trying to get permission from various places, including the United Nations, to allow American military forces into the priority areas where oil is vulnerable not only to local warlords, but also to foreign entities..."

Bear immediately said, "Glad our turn doing that shit is over. It consumed more than a year of our lives just pounding dirt all day." All the pilots in the room breathed a sigh of relief as well. The Dark Horses were not part of the regular uniformed services of the allied nations. Because of this they were sent into the Middle East shortly after the oil crisis began and were helping special forces take out any threats to Middle East oil, no bureaucratic tape cutting necessary.

The anchor continued, "…As if to make things even more unsettling for the UN, China is at a record low on its reserve supplies of oil. They would normally have resorted to increasing imports from Russia, but the Russian oil industry was crippled by the civil war. Many eyes are watching to see what China will do. The Chinese government has not responded to any questions on possible measures they will take to get new oil to their rising infrastructure."

Just then the image on the screen changed to that of the United States.

"Oh boy," Bear said full of sarcasm, "I can't wait to hear how great we're doing."

The news anchor switched notes before talking. "The US economy has taken another dip as overspending has increased this year. The US has significant defense cuts put in place and has been unable to cancel spending on programs that don't serve the purpose of the armed forces true needs, such as the $400 billion dollar F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program, which has become immersed in allegations of corruption and bribery…"

Mozart got up and said, "I think that's enough TV for me. Anyone up for going outside to meet our new air wing? They're supposed to be landing soon."

All the pilots checked their watches before they got up and left the TV to head outside. The Dark Horse pilots looked up in the sky and were soon able to see their new air wing squadrons as they made their own landing approaches.

The first squadron consisted of twelve JAS-39 Gripens. There were eight single-seater JAS-39Cs and four two-seater JAS-39Ds. The JAS-39 Gripen was a single-engine small lightweight fighter that was built by Sweden. It was extremely rugged and reliable as well as packed an advanced weapons suit. It was also highly maneuverable and agile. These particular Gripens had the markings of the Royal Thai Air Force. Thailand was a nation that had aligned itself with the United States because of a growing fear of rising China. Cooperation between Thailand and the United States was tightly knit as a result. Part of integrating the Thai into the Dark Horses was an effort to increase cooperation between the two nations.

The second was a small contingent from a squadron that consisted of four EA-18G Growlers. The roundels they had were a circle with a kangaroo centered, the mark of the Royal Australian Air Force. The EA-18G Growler was an advanced electronic warfare aircraft that was based on the two seat F/A-18F Super Hornet. It was the most advanced electronic attack aircraft in the world and featured powerful jamming capabilities that could cripple air defenses. Needless to say the Australians quickly became proficient at using its jamming capabilities and were quick to show that they had the skills to be highly formidable on the battlefield. The alliance between the United States and Australia went all the way back to the Vietnam War. They had cooperated with American forces in many major military actions since then, including both Iraq wars, Afghanistan, and many covert operations. The Australians were easily considered to be among the most reliable, trustworthy, and honest nations in the region.

The original members of the Dark Horses watched as the Thai and Australian operators landed, exited their aircraft, and headed over to the barracks assigned to them.

"It's like I said," Mozart remarked. "At least we know one of them speaks English."

* * *

**Red Crown: Please tell me what you think. As before reviews increase my motivation to write by a large margin. They are like fuel for my writing engines. More reviews means that you will get the next chapter sooner.**


	2. Friction Within

**Red Crown: I decided to make one last callsign change. I'm sorry and I promise this will be the last one. "Wells" callsign is now changed to "Duke." Now on to the adventure. By the way, this chapter is long compared to my average lengths. You might want to eat something while you read.**

_"Every Communist must grasp the truth; 'Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.'"_

― Mao Zedong

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: **_"Friction Within"_**

**Date: December 10, 2016**

**Time: 2100 hours, 9:00 P.M. (Beiijing Time)**

**Location: Beijing, People's Republic of China**

Major Lei Feng continued to look at the screen in front of him. He was of medium height and had fair skin for a person of his heritage. His narrow sharp eye brows and eye heterochromia were what made him distinguishable. One of his eyes was dark brown while the other was a light hazel gray.

At the moment he was in a car with one of the most trusted and politically powerful generals of China sitting right next to him, General Yang Hu of the People's Liberation Army. The general had a snake-like scar that went along his right cheek and down into the collar of his uniform. He had hair that was graying over and eyes that were worn from combat. Although his eyes were worn from war there was something else in them as well. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled, but deep in his orbs was a hidden fire of passion that had remained over his many years of life.

They were both wearing their dress uniforms and sitting in the back of a limo that had a large TV in front of the cabin. The night sky was dark and the city was bright. Thick rain had made the view outside the windows appear very blurred, not that it actually held their attention.

They both watched as a national news station was airing a crisis in one of their country's cities. The shortage of oil had caused social unrest and massive riots to break out all over the Middle Kingdom as people lacked the basics for gas and other sorts of fuel. The government had suppressed news outlets that tried to report on the situation. Ultimately the People's Republic could never afford to look weak, but sooner or later the story was going to break out. It was pretty clear that intelligence assets in the United States were getting antsy about it as they already knew. Multiple attempts had been made by the government to subdue unrest and uprisings from within. On the screen was an image of PLA armor rolling into a town as soldiers fired tear gas grenades everywhere. Police in full body armor were getting in brawls with ordinary citizens. Every now and then a shot fired would cause the people to scatter, but it was only temporary. The image switched to another town where the PLA had simply resorted to lining people up against a wall and having them shot execution style.

Just then the car stopped moving. Feng looked outside and could see that the car had stopped right in front of one of the many consulate buildings within the city. He also noticed that there were several other cars right outside along with their own, only these cars were armored vehicles.

"Major," the general said to make sure his had his attention. "There are two things China needs right now if it is to maintain its power. Do you know what they are?"

"No, sir," Feng replied. He turned his head away from the TV to look directly at General Yang. When the general looked back at him he saw a certain kind of malicious violence and intense determination in his gaze.

"Oil and a distraction."

The general opened the door and stepped out of the car. Feng got out and closely followed behind. Just then the doors of the armored vehicles opened up and Feng watched as soldiers armed with assault rifles and clad in body armor stepped out into the rain. The soldiers had the insignia of the Ministry of State Security on their uniforms. They quickly joined them as General Yang led the entire group up to the front doors of the building, which were guarded by two officers of the Secret Police. Surprisingly, the officers did not stop him or even check his papers. Both of them acted as if they had been expecting him to arrive and opened the doors upon seeing him.

Feng had no idea what the higher ranking officer was planning, but he ultimately trusted General Yang's motives were for the overall good of China. As Feng followed the general he quietly began to wonder to himself exactly what was about to happen. The General had made Feng his right hand man for the most part in recent months. Feng had been transferred to a special unit that reported exclusively to General Yang over a year ago. Since then he had been conducting training for a mission that he was told would take place on the Paracel Islands off China's southern coast. The amount of respect and admiration General Yang carried with him was well known throughout China.

Just then they stopped at a set of very nice double doors that had a large painting of the ancient Chinese empire and all its kingdoms. General Yang opened the doors and walked inside. In the room was a large table, at which sat the Minister of Defense and State Counselor Long Jing and the rest of his staff. It was clear that this was a meeting of some sort and they were uninvited. Jing looked up surprised by the general's intrusion. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

Quickly the soldiers walked around the table and encircled the group as the members of Jing's staff stood up looking surprised. Long Jing was a combat veteran of Vietnam, the same as General Yang. Feng knew he held plenty of clout and was also probably the only one with enough influence and daring to halt whatever Yang's plans were if he figured them out. Most of the politicians and military leaders in China knew this too.

"General, what are you doing? I knew you had plans, but this time you've simply gone too far."

"I have more than just plans, Minister. I have the Secret Police on my side," Yang said as he walked along the length of the table. He then looked all of Jing's staff in the eyes. With ever so careful tact he spoke to them. "China needs two things right now: Oil and a distraction, preferably one beyond our borders. The legitimacy of the regime is on the line. Taking the Spratly Islands and their natural reserves would be the answer to all our problems. Those islands rightfully belong to the Middle Kingdom by the traditional borders set by our ancient ancestors. We've always had the right to take them, but now we have a need to do it."

Long Jing's eyes narrowed. Even facing death he did not show an ounce of fear. "You are going to bring war and devastation upon this corner of the globe. You're also forgetting about the Americans. Surely the US Navy will be sent to fight our forces if such a move were taken."

"All of the United States' forces are being focused on efforts to rebuild the Middle East and get oil flowing out again. They know that this conflict is the result of a shortage of oil and they would prioritize that to solve problems here. They won't have the resources or the time to get involved. This will be a short and decisive war," the general stated.

"History has shown that promises of short and decisive wars have rarely ever delivered." Long Jing rebuked as he looked at the general's eyes. When General Yang looked back he could see undeterred determination. "You know as well as I do what war is like and you're still pursuing it? I will never side with you," Long Jing said with shear disgust in his voice.

"You're forgetting a very basic rule about cruel governments," the general said as he reached in his uniform and pulled out a handgun. "They only maintain their power if they provide for the basic needs of the people." He then leveled the weapon at Long Jing's heart and pulled the trigger. Following a loud pop and a muzzle flash Jing fell to the ground holding his chest as blood flowed freely from the wound. The ping of an empty shell casing hitting the floor was the only thing audible as everyone in the room fell silent.

"Does anyone else want to side with the Minister?" asked the general. None of Long Jing's staff spoke up. They were either afraid or in full agreement with Yang's methods. With a lot of inspiration in his voice Yang said, "Now then, let's do what's necessary for China."

General Yang then looked at the soldiers and said, "Men, take the rest of the building. Clear out any forces that are still loyal to Long Jing."

As the soldiers scrambled out of the room the general approached Feng. He looked directly into his eyes as if to scan for any reservations. "You understand fully why I am doing this?"

"Yes, sir," Feng replied.

"Do you agree?"

Feng had some doubts that he held in reserve. If the general went to war and lost the war, then the Chinese government's legitimacy would be even further put in danger. If he went to war and won the war, then it would bolster its legitimacy as well as provide oil, bringing about internal stability in the process. The general was taking a big risk, but in light of the other alternatives for China this was one of the least bad looking options. Feng generally agreed with Yang's methods. He decided to give an honest answer. He doubted blatant flattery would not be caught by the general and he did not want to come off as a brown nose. "You're taking a big risk, but you have my full confidence. I'm at your side, general."

Yang gave his right hand officer a smirk. "I'm pleased that you have enough courage to be honest with me. I value an honest opinion." He reached into his uniform and handed Feng a folder filled with documents. "I'm going to need you for a crucial operation in the coming weeks. You're going to the Paracel Islands a few days from now."

Feng opened the folder and saw several papers ordering his transfer to a military air strip on the Paracel Islands off of China's southern coast. He then spotted a photograph of a squadron of Chinese Su-30MK2's being painted to look like Vietnamese Su-30MK2Vs. The photograph was of poor quality and in black and white, but he could clearly see the roundels and camouflage scheme of the People's Liberation Army Air Force being removed and replaced with those of the Vietnam People's Air Force. This made him all the more curious about what was happening.

Feng followed General Yang as he exited the building, leaving Long Jing to bleed out in front of his staff. The sound of automatic weapon's fire was audible throughout the night as the Secret Police soldiers began to cleanse the area of Long Jing's remnants.

* * *

**Date: December 11, 2016**

**Time: 0730 hours, 7:30 A.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

"For the last time, Hockey is not the greatest sport in the world," Bear said. "Soccer is."

As Luck walked into the briefing he could not help but to quietly laugh to himself when he found Bear and Stix debating something with Mozart that was in all practicality futile to argue with a Canadian.

"Are you daft?" Mozart fired back. "Kicking a ball back and forth across grass is not special at all. Hockey requires several talents being used at once and it requires real heart and real intensity. You have to ice skate, maintain your balance, use a stick effectively, the list goes on!"

Stix jumped in. "Soccer's played worldwide. It's the number one most played sport in history."

"That's only because most people on earth live in more areas covered with grass than they do with ice."

Just then the new CAG walked into the room. He had the same stone-serious expression on his face. He handed a folder to each of them before walking to the front of the room to give his briefing. "Today our foreign allied squadron commanders will meet for the first time. You will also meet your new DCAG. I want you to be on your best behavior. They should be coming in any minute now."

As the Dark Horses quietly waited they began to wonder exactly who the new DCAG was. The fact that he had not picked Luck as the DCAG made them all begin to wonder if he decided to have a foreign pilot take the role.

Just then the doors opened and in walked eight Australians and sixteen Thai. All of them were wearing flight suits with their respective nation's insignias. All of them took their seats except for the leader of the Australian group. He walked right next to Duke and stood with his arms crossed.

It was then that they noticed the Australian leader was of medium height. His hair was a dark sandy blond color and was kept in a clean shape. His eyes were a dull hazel blue color and there were wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. He looked older than everyone in the room. He was at least in his mid-forties. There was a blond five o'clock shadow on his face that made him look hard. He was very lean and well fit. The name tape on his uniform read "Alex Remington."

As they had quickly surmised, Duke said, "This is the air wing DCAG, Wing Commander Remington. He will now introduce himself."

Remington's voice was harsh and scratchy. His Sydney accent had a certain character to it. "My name's Alex Remington. I've commanded Australia's Electronic Attack squadrons since they were made three years ago. Before then I flew F/A-18F Super Hornets for four years and before that I was mixed in with several Legacy Hornet squadrons for six years," he began.

As the Dark Horse pilots did the math in their heads they realized that he had a total of 13 years of experience in all the major variants of the F/A-18 Hornet family of aircraft. That was a lot of years and a lot of experience.

Remington continued. "I've trained in the United States, Thailand, Malaysia, and Japan. On a low level I worked building cooperation with Vietnam. I've worn many hats and I look forward to working with everyone in this air wing." With those words he stepped back from the center of the room and returned the attention to Duke.

If anything that resume instantly earned him the respect of the Dark Horses. Now it was Duke's turn.

He stepped forward and said, "My name is Ryan Wellington, callsign 'Duke.' I have flown the Super Hornet for ten years and among other things I have finished in the top of my class as a TOP GUN graduate."

TOP GUN was the Navy Fighter Weapons School at NAS Fallon, Nevada. It was made famous by the movie of the same name. Ultimately it was a place where fighter pilots took several courses to train obsessively to not only get better, but to become perfect. Graduates from TOP GUN had trained and been schooled in the art of every facet of aerial combat to a point where no one was as knowledgeable or as skilled as they were. They had practiced war to perfection. The fact that Duke came out at the top of his class meant that he had beaten out the competition, which was a remarkably impressive feat.

Duke spoke on, "We are here to prepare ourselves for any confrontation with foreign powers in this region and in particular over the Spratly Islands. Our mission is to become the best of our own representative nations and to bring that experience back to our own countries so that our own nations will be better prepared. In addition to that we are also here to learn how to fight together as a cohesive unit. Communication will be key to our success. We have a curriculum I devised for us to better enhance our ability to cooperate."

The rest of the brief was very concise as Duke explained the curriculum of their training. He used a Power Point presentation to show his plan for the air wing for the next two months. The more the pilots looked at the curriculum the more they realized that it was extremely rigorous, even for them. It was laden with hours of flying, followed by hours of briefing, subsequently followed by hours of planning, which was in turn followed by more hours of briefing. Duke was going to work all of them very hard.

* * *

Several hours later the Dark Horses Air Wing pilots were outside checking their aircraft and preparing for the various training missions that they were about to undertake. Just as Luck was going through a systems check with his aircraft he decided to walk over to Frost's hanger and see how she was doing. Occasionally he liked to bug her by irritating her in some way. She secretly liked it when he bugged her, but she would never admit it. It was part of their little game that they played with each other.

It was then that he found Frost sitting in the cockpit of her brand new aircraft: a JAS-39E Gripen. Her Gripen had the same pale blue body and white nose paint scheme as the other Gripens. However, it had markings of the Royal Air Force. The JAS-39E was the next generation of Gripen. It featured some of the most advanced avionics and had significant improvements in range and payload over the older JAS-39C Gripen.

When it looked like the F-35 wasn't going to be combat ready anytime soon and the EF-2000 proved to be too expensive for the needs of the Royal Air Force the United Kingdom decided to look at using the JAS-39E Gripen to fill the gap. They had only acquired two of the early pre-production Gripen Es, both of which were inside this hanger. Frost had been selected as one of two RAF pilots to become proficient in the Gripen.

The other pilot was sitting in the cockpit of the other Gripen running through checks of his own. His name was Squadron Leader John Anderson. Truth be told, none of the other pilots in the Dark Horses, with the exception of Frost, knew much about him except that he was the brother of Frost's deceased flight lead Bishop Anderson, who died in a dogfight over Greece against Russian mercenaries. He had the same basic look as Bishop. He was very tall with broad shoulders and a powerful build. His hair was smooth and dark brown. His eyes were a deep hazel brown. He had a strong jaw and high cheek bones.

Luck walked up to the Gripen that Frost was in. He decided to sneak up by the cockpit and surprise her by suddenly raising his head close by while simultaneously shouting at the top of his lungs, "LOOK OUT!"

Frost was startled and nearly jumped out of her ejection seat. When she recognized who it was she quickly punched him in the arm and said, "I hate it when you do that!"

Luck laughed in response and began rubbing his arm from the impact. He looked over at John and couldn't help but to notice that he was staring at them both. He could not tell what was going through John's mind, but he decided to pay no mind to it. "So what do you think of the Gripen compared to your Typhoon?"

Frost turned her attention back to the systems check she was running in her cockpit. "Well the avionics are almost just as good. The new AESA radar is having a lot of problems though since it's not finished. It doesn't have the same range or payload as the Typhoon, but it's a lot lighter and it's more maneuverable. Overall, I'm content with it."

Just then Mozart and Stix, who were walking by the scene, entered the hanger. The same thing was on both of their minds. They quickly walked up to their two original squadron members with a look of complete frustration.

"Hey, Luck, Duke is going to work us crazy. We need to find a way out of this," said Stix.

Mozart quickly joined in. "Or at the very least slow him down."

Luck took a deep breath to calm himself before he responded. "I have no intention of fighting anything Duke does."

They both looked at him with a mix of surprise and disappointment.

"Why not?" asked Stix. "You have more combat experience than him and I'm sure if we all pool together we can get his curriculum just a little eased up."

"He's the CAG now. Whatever he says goes. If we spend a lot of energy fighting him, then we just complicate things within the air wing." Ultimately, Luck truly believed that Duke's words earlier were right. Having an air wing that was overworked and angry was much better than having one that contradicted itself on the inside.

It was then that they spotted Bear running towards them with a frantic look on his face and a slip of paper in his hand.

"Luck, you need to see this! This is screwed up!" he said as he reached him. He then shoved the paper an inch away from his face.

Luck pulled his head back and took the paper out of his hand. He saw that it was a list of the Dark Horses Air Wing inventory. It had a list of all the aircraft planned for use in the air wing. It read:

_# _|_ Model_ |_ Operator Nation_

_4 _|_ F/A-18E Super Hornet _|_ United States, Canada_

_4 _|_ EA-18G Growler _|_ Australia_

_2 _|_ JAS-39E Gripen _|_ United Kingdom_

_8 _|_ JAS-39C Gripen _|_ Thailand_

_4 _|_ JAS-39D Gripen_ |_ Thailand_

Luck looked at it for a minute before realizing that Bear's F-15E Strike Eagle was not listed. Below the inventory was a list of every pilot in the air wing. After scanning through the list he realized that Bear's name was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he was not a part of the air wing anymore.

"I'm not on it!" Bear said frantically.

"Hold on a second," Luck said. "This might be a mistake. Let's go talk to Duke."

With that said, the original members of the Dark Horses went to the office of their new CAG. Luck knocked on the door and heard Duke say, "Come in."

When they opened the door they found that his office was arrayed meticulously in order. On his desk was a phone, a computer, a load of paper work, and a model of an F/A-18E on a stand. To the left of the office were various awards and accommodations, including plaques, trophies, challenge coins, and medals. A small library stand was on the right filled with books about warfare and tactics. A music box he had was connected to his iPhone and was set to a playlist of Vietnam War-era music. Currently the song Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix was playing. Duke lowered the music down to a minuscule level when his subordinates walked in.

"There must be some mistake on the inventory list. Bear isn't on it and neither is his plane," Luck said.

"There's no mistake. I've worked with our foreign relations arm to get him transferred to Singapore. He'll fly alongside the Singaporean Air Force's Strike Eagles for training. He'll also serve as our air wing's bridge to that nation's air force. It's the most beneficial way to use him and makes use of his experience by sharing it with an ally. It also saves us a lot of maintenance from having to source extra parts for a different type of aircraft."

It was then that Bear asked, "Don't I get a say in this?"

"No," Duke flatly replied. "Singaporean officials are expecting to meet you tomorrow evening."

"You can't do that," Stix said, a hint of anger in her voice. "You didn't even provide him with a notice of transfer first. It's a requirement that you send him a notice within 48 hours for this kind of transfer. He is an original member of this air wing and deserves better that this."

Frost followed with, "You would be removing a valuable asset of this air wing that could be used for the betterment of the training here on our own pilots."

The look Duke gave Stix and Frost was chillingly cold. "First of all, I'm your CAG. Don't ever tell me what I can or can't do. Second of all, you are all not members of the armed forces anymore. You're mercenaries. Protocol for transfer is defined by me. I'm not going to couch this lightly because you want your little gang to stay together."

Luck was furious. He could almost feel his fellow pilots looking at him to speak up against this, to somehow fight this. He watched as Duke's eyes leveled on him, waiting for a reaction. As much as Luck wanted to push back he knew that he had agreed to not disagree with his CAG in public. He also knew that it was for the good of the air wing to keep things cohesive and that if he disagreed with Duke the rest of the pilots would follow him wholeheartedly, resulting in Duke pushing back harder and stronger friction within the air wing. Much to the surprise of his men he merely said, "Okay, sir. Thanks for clearing that up."

The room became surprisingly quiet with the exception of the music box lightly playing. Luck could almost feel the hurt he had done to his comrades as they simply didn't say anything further.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Duke asked.

"No, sir."

"Then you're all dismissed," Duke said as he nonchalantly went back to his paperwork. Slowly, but surely the original Dark Horses crew turned around and walked out of the office.

When they were outside again and well out of earshot of their air wing CAG Stix said, "Luck, if you don't fight him he might break us up completely. What's to stop him from sending anyone of us away to train in some other country apart from each other for his definition of 'the good of the air wing?'"

Luck looked directly at her. "From a purely objective point of view his decision makes sense. Having a Strike Eagle here would put a larger burden on maintenance crews and the connection our air wing gets to Singapore would be more valuable than the overall training he could provide to our allies in the air wing. I hate the fact that he's one of our own leaving, but the fact remains that it's a logical decision." Luck then looked at Bear. "At least you won't have to go through the crazy training curriculum that Duke made for the air wing. We'll be working our butts off while you're in Singapore. You should see if you're wife can come over for a visit."

It was then that Bear's expression lit up as he realized that he did have an easier work load set up for the near future, which meant more flying and less briefs. "Katie should be free around that time too. That's a good idea!"

Bear had married an ex-Russian spy who had defected. Her birth name was Vanya Maraklova, but when she defected she changed her first name to Katie and her last name to Zachary, in anticipation for Bear to marry her. Bear married her shortly after dating for a few months and the early name change guaranteed less paperwork for her. "Maybe this is a good deal after all," Bear reluctantly said.

Mozart put his arm around him. "We're going to miss you, friend. I wish you the best of luck in Singapore."

"I'll keep in touch," Bear responded with a smile.

They each separated to go to their own individual aircraft hangers. As Luck was walking to his jet Mozart walked right along side with a water bottle in hand and said, "I'm just wondering if you would do anything differently had he tried to send Frost away to train somewhere else." Luck looked at Mozart with a smirk. The Canadian liked to test him every now and then, mostly to better understand where he stood on certain issues. Mozart had also become one of Luck's more close friends that he could confide in.

"I would fight that tooth and nail. He told me nothing would change about her staying in the air wing at the same rank."

Mozart merely nodded in understanding before taking a drink from his water bottle. Luck smirked as he decided that now it was his turn to take a shot at Mozart. "So is anything going on between you and Stix?"

The Canadian choked on a gulp of water and quickly spit it out in reaction to hearing the question. He then began subsequently coughing since some of the water went down the wrong pipe. When he finally got a hold of himself he then said, "You're joking right?"

"I see you two together all the time," Luck said as his smirk deepened.

"Maybe that's because we're in the same air wing and flying the same aircraft," he fired back defensively.

Luck merely shrugged as they reached their F/A-18E Super Hornets. "If you say so."

* * *

**Red Crown: As always, more reviews means the next chapter will come sooner!**


	3. Duel

_"Sometimes, if you want to change a man's mind, you have to change the mind of the man next to him first."_

― Megan Whalen Turner, _The King of Attolia_

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: **_"Duel"_**

**Date: December 12, 2016**

**Time: 1530 hours, 3:30 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

The first day went fairly smooth in terms of operation. Near the end of the day after they had finished training and had concluded their last debrief the Dark Horses Air Wing pilots closed their folders and began packing up their flight gear. There were speakers in the room normally used for briefs, but Duke had set them to another Vietnam-era track. The song Wild Thing by The Troggs was playing.

As they were clearing out of the briefing room Duke walked in. "Good job out there. I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow morning. You're all free to go." He then paused for a moment. "Unless you want to do some one on one dogfighting exercises before you head out."

Luck immediately stopped what he was doing and froze in place as he could subconsciously feel what was coming next. The muscles in his neck slightly tensed up.

"Luck?" Duke said, causing the former leader of the Dark Horses to look directly at him. "How about it?"

Everyone in the room paused for a moment and looked at Luck. The gravity of what Duke had done soon began to sink into the room. He had challenged Luck to a duel in front of everyone, even his former subordinates. Luck narrowed his eyes as he knew all too well what Duke was doing. The new CAG was further cementing his authority over the air wing. Out of the original Dark Horse pilots Luck had the most kills and had trained hard to be the best dogfighter out of them. If he proved he was a better pilot than the former leader he would make it absolutely certain beyond a doubt that he was fit to be the new leader. There was also something else that was going on. Deep down in their guts, the original Dark Horse pilots wanted Luck to be the CAG and deep down in Luck's gut he thought he would be a better CAG than Duke. At this moment Duke was aiming to prove all of them wrong in the most crucial way possible, by defeating him at his own profession.

"Sure. Let's fight," Luck calmly responded before putting his flight gear back on.

He and Duke walked out of the briefing room to the hanger on the base that housed the Super Hornets. The Dark Horses Air Wing pilots all went to a place on the base that had the CCIC (Command Combat Information Center) which was a room with all the computer systems necessary to follow the duel. To the Australians and the Thai this was merely a duel between friends. They were going to watch the fight because they wanted to see what Duke was made of. However, to the original Dark Horses pilots this was a fight that mattered far much more than that. If Luck was victorious it would earn them bragging rights and more clout against Duke.

As Luck and Duke were climbing in their planes Frost quickly got on one of the radios in the CCIC and used a channel that she remembered Luck's F/A-18E was set to so that only he could hear her. When Luck put his helmet on and switch on his radio he heard her say, "Luck? You there?"

"Yeah, Frost?"

"Take him down," she said in support.

"I intend to," he replied.

Within a matter of minutes both F/A-18E Super Hornets taxied onto the runway and took off side by side. Both jets were in a clean configuration with no under wing pylons or weapons. The sky was cloudless and clear blue could be seen in all directions. The sun was bright and the air was thin. As they climbed they looked around and were able to see the many islands in all directions. Over this piece of the earth land was sparse and water was abundant.

Just then Luck could hear Duke over the radio. "I would like to do this guns only. No simulated missile shots. What do you think?"

"Sure," he replied as he selected his gun.

Both Super Hornets went high to 20,000 feet before splitting apart from each other to set up an even fight. They gained about 15 miles distance apart from each other before deciding to make a slow turn inward for the merge.

Duke then made a countdown over the radio. "Three… two… one… fight's on."

They then faced nose to nose head on and began closing the distance. Right before the merge Luck made a leading right turn, turning early so that he would have an advantage in getting behind his opponent. Duke on the other hand pulled up into a climb and went into full afterburner, staying out of the trap that the lead turn would have allowed Luck to make. Clouds of vapor streamed off both aircraft as they ripped through the sky.

As Luck looked up at Duke he saw that the CAG was now nosing over to come down on him. Luck immediately went into full after burner and pulled up into his opponent. This move was a direct counter to Duke's move. The result was both aircraft being enveloped into a rolling scissors, where both aircraft rolled against each other in spiraling twin paths. The goal of the maneuver was to fly as slow as possible and get behind the opponent for a shot.

Both pilots shut off their afterburners as they quickly bled speed in the scissors. Both Super Hornets adjusted their control surfaces for slow speeds. Luck looked up in his cockpit and was able to see Duke had his visor raised and was looking right back at him with his intense blue gaze.

Success in the rolling scissors depended on the aviator being able to keep his plane at the razor's edge of sustained flight. The slower the pilot was the better his odds of success; however, maintaining this flight profile was as difficult as two people standing on soccer balls. One of them was bound to lose it.

Much to Luck's dismay, he watched as Duke was slowly sliding behind his canopy and gaining the advantage. A few seconds went by as Luck watched Duke slide further behind him and he realized that he wasn't going to win in the scissors. He decided to try something erratic and unexpected. When he was upside down in the roll he yanked back on the stick and increased thrust, sending himself into a dive and breaking the scissors. In doing this he lost sight of Duke, but expected him to be following behind or banking around to find him. He turned the dive into a split-S, pulling out of it in the opposite direction.

"Look Up," he heard Duke say over the radio.

Just when Luck's eyes shifted upward he saw something that he thought was impossible. Duke's Super Hornet was moving in the same direction as him a couple thousand feet above his own Super Hornet. He was further ahead and was descending steeply. The CAG had somehow managed to get the nose of the Super Hornet pointed all the way back down and into Luck's flight path and was holding it there expertly. Duke's F/A-18E was in fact flying backwards while the gun was in a spot for a killing shot.

"Bang. You're dead," said the new leader of the Dark Horses Air Wing. The move had killed all of his energy so he fell several thousand feet before he straightened out his plane and concluded the fight with the radio call, "Knock it off. Knock it off."

Luck was furious. He gritted his teeth and went wings level before coming up alongside Duke in formation. They both flew back to the airstrip.

* * *

Within the span of an hour Luck was sitting in the debriefing room and staring at the floor in quiet reflection. He felt surprised, angry, frustrated, defeated, and was overall in a slight state of shock. The surprise came from the shear skill he had seen Duke display in the fight. Duke was practically flawless in the scissors and the move he had used to get the kill was something Luck had never seen anyone ever do with a Super Hornet. He was angry at himself because he felt like he had not prepared enough, but then again he had spent the last year dropping bombs in the Middle East and his once superb dogfighting skills had gotten rusty with time. On top of this all was the frustration as he knew that now there was no question that Duke was a better pilot and that gave him a lot of clout. Some of the frustration went away when he quietly decided to accept Duke was in the right place as CAG of the Air Wing, but he was only able to do this grudgingly slow.

Just then Duke walked in and in his hand was the disk he had of his gun camera. He put the disk into a computer that was linked to a projector in the room before dimming the lights and flipping the switch on. They both watched the fight in silence and inevitably came to the kill scene. Even from the camera's view point her could not figure out how Duke made that shot. It simply looked like a blur. Luck could see that Duke's gun piper was right on his cockpit when he pulled the trigger. There in the cockpit he could see himself clad in flight gear with surprised eyes staring back.

"You're a good pilot and you're not very predictable, but I've flown this plane a lot longer than you have," Duke said as he turned the lights on. "You're free to challenge me anytime and I trust we won't have any problems in the future."

Luck paused before giving Duke a sincere look and saying, "No problems, Duke." As much as Luck did not like Duke the fact that he was deserving of respect was now inescapable.

With that said, the CAG merely nodded his head and walked out of the room. Shortly after he left a few pilots came into the briefing room. He recognized them as Mozart, Frost, Bear, and Stix, who now had her hair cut collar length. As soon as they walked in Frost came right alongside him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well," Mozart said, "At least Duke walks the talk."

"Yeah," Stix agreed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's really good."

Bear then looked at his watch before saying, "Guys, my flight on F-15E diplomatic air lines to Singapore leaves in an hour." Despite his slight joke the mood in the room fell even further after those words left his mouth. Bear walked over to each of them and gave them a warming hug. The ultimate truth was that with the new inventory for aircraft no longer including Strike Eagles there was almost no guarantee that Bear would be reintegrated into the air wing. They all knew this so when Bear hugged them they each hugged him back tightly. "I'm going to miss you guys," he said.

"Good luck, Bear," Frost wished him.

As Stix hugged him she said, "You better stay in touch or I'll fly out there just to find you and kick your ass."

"You too," Bear replied. He then took a few steps toward the door, but he stopped and turned around. He looked at them with a very memorable smirk and said, "The way I see it, we'll always be connected and no matter how or what Duke does to change the air wing we'll always be the true Dark Horses. We'll always be a family."

They all nodded in affirmation. Then Bear left. As they watched him walk out to his F-15E and climb into the cockpit they could not help but to realize that it felt more like a member of their family was leaving.

* * *

**Date: December 12, 2016**

**Time: 0300 hours, 3:00 A.M. (Moscow Time)**

**Location: Lefortovo Prison, Moscow, Russian Federation**

Lena walked down the hallway and went past the many cells of a prison block. Behind her was a guard of the Russian Federal prison, clad in body armor. In her hands were several documents organized into a binder. When she finally got to the cell she was looking for the guard swiped his ID card through the electronic lock and opened the door. The Ukrainian woman was about to enter, but she paused. Quickly she pulled out a pocket sized mirror and used it to fix her hair, wipe some dust off her uniform, and adjust her officer hat. Once that was done she slowly walked inside and the guard followed her in. There she found Krylov chained to a chair with a hood over his face. A single light was directly over him in the damp cell of concrete walls.

"Krylov, it's me," she said.

He recognized her voice and she was able to see him raise his head slightly at the sound. Quickly she walked up to him and placed a gentle hand on his head. She grabbed a fistful of the hood and then looked at the guard to search for approval. The guard nodded his head and Lena pulled the hood off to reveal his face. He had a strong looking jaw and short smooth raven black hair. The most notable feature about him were his ice cold grayish-blue eyes that were completely empty of emotion. His face was slightly bruised from beatings. There was a trickle of blood coming down from his lip and another from his brow. Bags had formed under his eyes as a result of sleep deprivation. His cheeks had thinned a little bit from malnutrition. In spite of all of this the cold look in eyes had remained the same as if he were entirely unfazed by the abusive treatment. The moment his eyes adjusted to the lighting in the cell they leveled on her.

Lena looked back at him with the softest expression of compassion. It hurt her to see him like this. Before taking a moment to visually examine his bruises she opened the binder. "It looks like you won't be here long," she said, "High Command wants you out of Moscow. I've been sent here to notify you that you'll be given a special assignment from the government to make use of your services. Our intelligence assets have caught onto a situation arising in South East Asia that could negatively affect Mother Russia. The assignment is very dangerous. Your only other option is to refuse and be tortured here until you confess to crimes that you have not done."

Krylov did not say anything. He merely looked at the floor as if he really did not care what happened to him. This caused Lena to be even more concerned. "Please, Krylov, chose the assignment. Your odds of living are better there." She held the folder up for him to read.

Once he started to read the assignment his eyebrow twitched and his eyes narrowed with interest. When he had finished reading the document detailing the assignment he staunchly said, "Tell them I'm ready to leave whenever they want."

* * *

**Date: December 12-December 17, 2016**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

The way things worked in the Dark Horses Air Wing were simple: At the head of it was the CAG. Second to the CAG was the DCAG. Below him were the Squadron Commanders, who took charge of each squadron. Among these Squadron Commanders was Luck who was in charge of the Super Hornets, which basically gave him responsibility over Stix and Mozart. Frost was a Squadron Commander in charge of the two British Gripens. The Australian Growlers had their own Squadron Commander and the Thai Gripens had a Squadron Commander of their own as well.

Within the first five days the training had begun to kick in and it proved to be very intensive. Duke worked everyone hard and put a large focus on doing things in a precise professional manner. As time dragged on they realized that the DCAG he picked, Wing Commander Remington, was actually very similar to Duke in more ways than one. He seemed completely on board with Duke's training program and was in complete support of everything Duke did, much to the dismay of the Dark Horse pilots. Inevitably, the Dark Horses would give Remington the callsign, "Steel," since his name was the same as that of a famous gun brand. All in all, Steel proved to be very knowledgeable about tactics and was a great pilot. There were some differences between him and Duke though. Whereas Duke seemed very distant in a lot of regards, Steel seemed interested in getting to know the pilots in the air wing on a more personal level.

One early morning when Luck was programming simulated target information into one of his on board computers he happened to spot Steel walking towards him. Steel asked him how he was doing and where he was from to strike a conversation. As the conversation went on Luck learned that Steel was in fact very much of a family man. He had two kids with a third on the way and despite the strain his job put on his marriage he was still very much involved with his wife and children.

"Is it difficult with the kids?" asked Luck. "I know you said you traveled a lot for training."

"I went to many countries for training. The strain it put on my marriage was intense. I could have traveled more and trained more, but I decided not to. In fact, I think this will be my last mission before I get out to stay with my family permanently," Steel replied. He then looked at Luck and asked, "You got kids yet?"

"No. I'm still getting through the dating bit," Luck responded. "I'd like to have a few someday though."

As time went on everyone quickly took a liking to Steel. He was able to be personal with them and cared for their ultimate well-being. At the same time he would be hard on them when he needed to be. If anyone screwed up and had no good excuse for why they had screwed up, he would almost certainly be the first to set them straight. Steel was the same way with his own squadron. As the DCAG he developed a reputation for being tough but fair and caring, almost like a father figure.

Duke on the other hand simply seemed to be authoritative and distant. His skill and knowledge of warfare were the primary reasons he was respected. His willingness to pass on that knowledge was valuable to everyone and his decisions had a logical reasoning to them. He would eventually be accepted as the CAG, but he was not well liked. The fact that the original Dark Horse pilots had accepted Duke as CAG of the air wing also did not stop them from defying him in little ways.

One afternoon Frost and Luck were on a combat air patrol together. It was not standard protocol for dissimilar aircraft to patrol together. Luck and Frost had been doing this multiple times over the past year. They had also set one of the radios in their aircraft to a separate frequency that they had agreed on so that they could talk privately. This was one of the methods they had used to spend time together on several occasions.

When Duke found out that they had scheduled a patrol together he called both of them into his office. When they walked in they found him sitting at his desk with a stone cold look on his face. His music box had been set to a low sound setting and was playing Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane. Luck and Frost went to the front of his desk and stood at attention a few feet apart from each other.

"Do you think the multi-million dollar aircraft that our governments gave us to train and defend our countries with can be used to go on dates?"

The British and American squadron commanders remained silent, letting Duke try to bore a hole into them with his glare.

"We don't do mixed aircraft patrols here. We have Super Hornets fly with Super Hornets and Gripens fly with Gripens. That's how we keep our own squadron maintenance cycles on the same page with eachother. I don't want to see you two together on another patrol again. It's not professional," the CAG said. "You're dismissed."

As soon as they had left the office and were out of earshot of their CAG Frost quickly said, "He said no 'patrols' together right?"

Luck nodded. "Yeah that's what he said."

She started to grin. "'Patrols' doesn't include reconnaissance missions last I checked,"

This caused the American aviator to smirk at her. "No, I don't think it does."

They both scheduled another such mission together for December 23rd next week, but when they labeled it on the operations paperwork they simply wrote "reconnaissance" instead of "patrol."

Stix would always walk into the briefings with chewing gum in her mouth and intentionally wait for Duke to tell her to spit it out. This happened several times until Duke threatened to give her disciplinary paperwork for the next two weeks, which caused her to immediately stop coming to briefings with gum in her mouth. The next day she walked into the briefing room with very strong bubblegum scented perfume, causing Duke to give her a very annoyed glare before he started the briefing. She merely held an innocent smile acting as if nothing was wrong. When the brief was over and Duke left the room the pilots cracked up laughing.

Mozart quickly found that Duke loved Vietnam War-era music, but he completely hated rap music. He said it was irritating and without class. The hanger crews for the Super Hornets of the air wing, however, loved rap music. Mozart rented a pack of large speakers for a week to the maintenance crews so that they could listen to it while they worked on the jets. Duke would hear this music every time he walked to the hanger and it really started to irritate him. When Duke asked the maintenance chief if they could use a different type of music the chief gave him a very convincing argument for why choosing the music for them was overstepping his bounds and counter to good morale. No one knew exactly what he said to Duke but whatever it was seemed logical enough to get Duke to let it go. However, Duke did find out who rented the speakers and when he found that it was only for a week he decided to dismiss it from his mind.

It seemed as if Mozart had won until the next day when everyone walked into the briefing room. Instead of his usual 60s-70s era songs, Duke had set the speakers in the room to play entirely different music: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 22 in E Flat. The focus on the piano, as well as the identity of the composer, were not lost on the Canadian fighter pilot. As the Canadian took his seat next to Stix for the briefing he merely said to her with a look of disbelief, "This is wrong on so many levels." Stix could not help but to laugh in reply.

As the Dark Horses Air Wing trained through the first week they had finally calibrated all of their communication systems and many of their basic tactics. Like the Super Hornet the JAS-39 was a very rugged and reliable aircraft. It was also one of the cheapest fighters in production and featured a large payload for its size. In comparison to the Super Hornet it was more maneuverable and better for close-in dogfighting. However, it had only half of the payload capacity of the Super Hornet and did not have all the advanced sensors that made the Super Hornet so good at long range fighting. The JAS-39C had roughly the same combat radius as the Super Hornet, which was an incredible feat for a fighter its size. A good analogy was that it was strong in areas the Super Hornet was weak and weak in areas the Super Hornet was strong. In general, both fighters were good at everything.

Overall, the Dark Horses had quickly come to think of the Super Hornet series and the Gripen series as the ultimate dynamic duo. As if to make this even better, the Gripen was powered by the F-404 engines, which were an older version of the F-414 engines on the Super Hornet, meaning that the maintenance crews for the Super Hornet could also work on the Gripen in order to service the jets. This also meant that the Thai Gripen crews could be easily trained to do maintenance on the Super Hornet engines as well. The JAS-39E on the other hand used the exact same engine as the Super Hornet so the British Gripen crews not only knew how to service the same engines for the Super Hornet, they could even exchange parts and vice versa. This provided a level of inter-operability between squadrons that only served to enhance and integrate the allied forces further. It also made things in the air wing extremely fluid.

* * *

**Date: December 17, 2016**

**Time: 1435 hours, 2:35 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Woody Island, Paracel Islands, People's Republic of China**

The sky had a layer of broken clouds at 15,000 feet. The sun was high and bright. The atmosphere was easy and tropical. The Paracel Islands were a group of small islands and reefs in the South China Sea, about one-third of the way from central Vietnam to the northern Philippines. They were claimed by both Taiwan and Vietnam, but entirely possessed by China. One of the islands, known as Woody Island, had an airstrip on it. Woody Island also had a small port with a military staff of the People's Liberation Army Navy.

The airstrip was once a very simple runway, but the government had taken many strides in the recent years to turn it into a military airstrip.

Major Feng and four other pilots from General Yang's special unit had flown in on a civilian air plane. However, he watched as a cargo ship brought the aircraft he was expected to fly. Off-loaded onto the island and quickly hurried away into several hangers were four Su-30MK2's painted to look like Vietnamese Su-30MK2Vs. He also watched as the cargo vessel unloaded several munitions and containers of fuel for the jets to use. It was at that point that Feng began to get slightly nervous.

"I'm still a little unsure about this," said a voice he heard behind him.

Feng looked and saw Captain Lee Wulong. Lee was a little shorter than he was and had soft facial features that made him look a few years younger than he actually was. He was also a pilot attached to the general's special unit and was put under the Major's commander for this operation. Other than that, Feng did not know that much at all about him.

"I share your same reservations about this mission, Lee." Feng replied. "But it is for the overall good of China and I trust General Yang's judgment."

Lee merely nodded and continued to watch as the Navy personnel kept unloading equipment.

"We'd better go through a quick practice brief and then get some sleep," Feng said before walking away. "Tomorrow morning we will change the South China Sea forever."

* * *

**Red Crown: More reviews means a new update sooner!**


	4. Deception

**Red Crown: So I just recently found this out. The second in command of an air wing is called the DCAG, not the XO. Both CAG and DCAG are naval holdovers from WWII when air wings were called Air Groups. So CAG was the acronym for Commander, Air Group while DCAG stood for Deputy Commander, Air Group (usually the senior most squadron leader in an air group). As a result I have gone back through my previous chapters and changed XO to DCAG. To reiterate:**

**XO = DCAG and Steel = DCAG**

_"The tragedy of war is that it uses man's best to do man's worst." _

― Henry Fosdick

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR: _**"Deception"**_

**Date: December 18, 2016**

**Time: 0739 hours, 7:39 A.M. (Hong Kong Time)**

**Location: Woody Island, Paracel Islands, People's Republic of China**

The sun had just started to climb from the horizon. Broken cloud cover rested at 18,000 feet with a second layer at 15,000 feet over the Paracels. The air was pure and tropical. The waters of the South China Sea were steady and calm. The island was quiet until the sound of jet engine turbines starting up cut through the air.

"Snake Five-five, Snake Lead, we are fueled and armed. Awaiting your command," Lee's voice came over the radio.

For this mission Feng was the lead aircraft of a flight of four Su-30MK2's that had been painted to look like Vietnamese Su-30MK2Vs. Their paint scheme was a camouflage of blotchy blue and light blue with a white nose, the standard scheme of Vietnamese fighters that patrolled the Spratly Islands. Under the wings of their aircraft were two PL-12 medium range air-to-air missiles, four PL-11 heat-seeking missiles, ten 250 kg bombs, and four 122 mm unguided rocket pods. His radio callsign was Snake Lead, while Lee was Snake 55. Two other pilots adopted the callsigns of Snake 56 and Snake 57.

After going through his checklist and making sure that his Su-30MK2 was in peek condition. He taxied his aircraft to the runway. "Snake Flight, Snake Lead, in twenty minutes hackers from our government will make the infiltration into the systems of our enemies. They will make it so that we appear as friendlies on the Vietnamese air defense systems and erase any evidence to the contrary. Our own forces are expecting us to arrive so we won't need to worry about anyone trying to shoot at us the entire way. We split up at the halfway mark and will rejoin at that same point on the way back. The plan is set in motion after we fire the first shot."

"Five, affirmative."

"Six, affirmative."

"Seven, affirmative."

Feng looked back at his men in their aircraft. They were all good soldiers. All of them were loyal to General Yang and all of them sought what was best for China. He hoped that their souls could bear what this mission would do to the South China Sea and what it would do to them as well.

Just then the radio tower spoke over their frequency. "Snake flight, you are cleared for takeoff. General Yang sends his wishes."

"Tower, Snake Lead, taking off." With that finished Feng pulled his aircraft up to the runway and set his thrust to military power. Behind him was Lee and the others.

* * *

**Date: December 18, 2016**

**Time: 0845 hours, 8:45 A.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Frost climbed out of her Gripen and started walking toward the locker rooms. Just then she saw John as he was leaving his own aircraft. She looked away from him and was clearly uncomfortable being alone with him. She decided to walk a little faster in an effort to get to the lockers sooner.

John then walked quickly to catch up and said, "Sophie, I see you have a new boyfriend."

This caused her to stop walking in place and to tense up. She did not turn around to look at him. "What about it?" she said slightly defensive.

John then walked in front of her and stared her dead in the eyes. There was a twisted smirk on his face. "I take it he does not know anything about what you were like before you joined the R-A-F."

Frost then narrowed her eyes threateningly. "He knows enough."

"Do any of your other friends from the Dark Horses even know about what you were like? Tell me, what constitutes 'enough?'"

"Whatever I decide constitutes enough and it's going to stay that way unless you want me to write terrible things about you in your evaluation to High Command." To this John stopped smirking and looked back at her with a serious expression. Frost's eyes looked back at him with fierce determination. "You will never talk to me about anything except business. Is that clear?"

John merely scoffed before slowly moving his arms out in an uncaring manner and nonchalantly replying, "Crystal."

Frost then shoved passed him forcefully. As she left him behind she strongly said, "I'm not the same person anymore, John. You'd be wise to remember that."

* * *

**Date: December 18, 2016**

**Time: 0922 hours, 9:22 A.M. (Spratly Islands Time)**

**Location: Sin Cowe Island, Spratly Islands, South China Sea**

Sin Cowe is the seventh largest Spratly island and the third largest among Vietnamese-occupied Spratly islands. It has a fringing reef which is above water at low tide. It contained a military outpost with a small town attached to it that housed the families of the Vietnamese sailors and infantry personal.

Captain Nguyen Van Han of the Vietnamese People's Army walked out of his command building to oversee his men. He watched as they were being drilled by their Staff Sergeant. He went all the way along their ranks and ensured that each of them were getting properly trained every day. It had been a long time since the massacre of unarmed Vietnamese sailors by the Chinese Navy on March 14, 1988 that caused Vietnam to militarize the islands under its control. However, the threat was still real and was something that they had to remain in constant preparation for.

If Captain Nguyen had one thing that he was worried about it was that China was growing restless from a shortage of oil and their government had been awfully quiet as of late. His way of dealing with his paranoia was to train his men harder. The best weapons available to the Vietnamese were manpower, training, and guerrilla warfare, which is exactly what helped them defeat the Chinese military in 1978 and before that the United States in the earlier 70's.

The best way of utilizing that particular weapon system was to keep the men from being complacent. Obedient men that were accustomed to hard times wouldn't break under the pressure of a long war with a significantly larger force. Captain Han knew this and so did his leaders, who were veterans of the many military skirmishes that had occurred with China.

He received a warning alarm from command on his mobile device. He picked it up and saw that it was the standard alarm that would go off to indicate a Chinese training exercise. He looked over to his south and saw the Johnson Reed, a Chinese owned reef that was only a few miles away and right next to Sin Cowe Island. It had two grey hull Chinese _Luyang II_-class destroyers warships floating closely together and hovering next to it. The Chinese had often brought several ships into the area on training exercises to display their growing military power. These warships were heavily armed and had enough fire power to kill nearly everyone on his island. The mere sight of them made him very weary.

Suddenly he heard what sounded like the distant roar of jet engines. There was a distinct difference in the sound between a civilian jet engine and a military jet engine. The ones he heard were certainly military. He looked up and started to scan the skies. Nowhere in the large blue atmosphere above him could he see any aircraft. The sound of the jet engines was getting louder as it came closer and closer.

It was then that he leveled his eyes on the horizon to the west and saw the aircraft. It was a single Su-30MK2V Flanker. The Su-30MK2V was flying at an extremely high speed and practically skimming the surface of the sea water. The fighter jet flew right by his island and was close enough for him to see a lot of detail on it. Under its wings were a load of bombs and air to air missiles. The paint scheme that covered its skin was that of the Vietnamese People's Air Force. It was heading straight for the Chinese destroyers.

The Vietnamese Captain felt like everything had started to slow down as he watched the Su-30MK2V light its afterburners and pull into a climb before releasing ten bombs, sending them hurdling at the two warships. Both warships were hit with several of the munitions, causing explosions of bright orange fire to wreck their hulls. The keel of the destroyers buckled and several members of the crew were thrown overboard.

Loud pops from the detonations reached Captain Han's ears moments later as large clouds of black smoke rose off the Chinese ships. He looked up and was able to spot the Su-30MK2V again as it climbed high before dropping out of afterburner and nosing over directly toward the warships. The Su-30MK2V then released a flurry of unguided rockets on the Chinese vessels. The rockets were of a large caliber and with each hit came a bright explosion that ripped right through the deck of the destroyers.

Captain Han watched as the Su-30MK2V pulled out of the dive and circled around to confirm the kills. Once it had completed the circle it then went back into full afterburner and raced away into the western horizon. At first he had hoped he was dreaming. It felt very surreal to him and he couldn't believe what he had seen. He then turned around and decided to run to his command building with a radio in it. He had to warn his chain of command of what had just happened.

* * *

**Date: December 18, 2016**

**Time: 1224 hours, 12:24 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

The Dark Horses Air Wing was just in the process of finishing up their morning training routine. All of them happened to be in the mess hall getting lunch after the morning session. Several long tables were scattered about the halls. The whole air wing was in the mess, not just the pilots but also the maintenance crews.

"Seriously," Stix began, "If I hear another Vietnam War-era track, I'm going to puke."

Luck, Frost, and Mozart were sitting with her at the same table. This caused them to smile as they quite thoroughly enjoyed Stix' rants on how much she resented Duke.

She then started to speak in a very stern manner, mockingly impersonating her CAG. "I was born in a hot zone in Vietnam. When I came out of my mother's womb the first thing I experienced was combat experience."

This caused a chuckle to emit out of her fellow pilots. She then pointed to all of them and sternly said, "All of you, stop that laughing. That's not professional."

This resulted in her fellow pilots laughing even louder.

Encouraged to go on by the laughter she put her hands on her hips and said, "This is not a laughing matter. All of you get disciplinary paper work for the next two weeks. You will learn to respect my authority."

Stix watched as the laughter became even louder, then abruptly died. Luck, Frost, and Mozart turned their gaze in other directions, trying to look ominous. The quiet created from the lack of laughter allowed Stix to hear two heavy sets of footsteps walking up behind her. "He's right behind me isn't he?" she asked.

When none of them answered Stix slowly twisted her upper body around and looked up to meet the intense eyes of her angry CAG. Behind him was Steel. In a very intimidating voice Duke warned, "Do an impersonation of me again and I'll give you a lot more than disciplinary paper work."

"Yes, sir," she responded before quickly turning back to her meal and lowering her head.

Their CAG looked them all in the eyes with his trademark serious expression and said, "Listen up. I just got word that we are going to have a new addition to the air wing. We have a contingent from Russia."

Upon hearing this the pilots at the table looked directly at him with surprise. It was not the pleasant kind of surprise either. It was the kind of surprise that people get after seeing someone kick their dog.

"I thought you wouldn't like this," Duke said. "I've read all about your missions that were done over a year ago. I know you don't like Russians. Unfortunately, I didn't have any say in the matter. We'll discuss this more at an appropriate time. I just wanted to give you a heads up rather than have you find out when they get here tonight."

"Tonight?" said Mozart with disbelief.

"Yes, they'll be coming in tonight. Like I said, we'll discuss this more later." Duke gave them a nod with his head before he turned around and went to get a lunch of his own.

As the CAG was leaving Steel turned his attention to the former leader of the Dark Horses. "Luck, from now on when we conduct our practice scramble drills I'd like you to be the one that herds the other pilots together alright?"

"Sure thing," Luck replied. Steel nodded and then left to attend to his own business.

At that moment they realized exactly what the DCAG was doing when he asked Luck to carry out that task. Steel was respecting Luck's former authority over the Dark Horses and acknowledging that he still had a lot of influence within the air wing. On top of it all the Australian was trying to use that influence to his advantage in getting the other pilots under control by working closely with him and building a good relationship of mutual respect. If anything, this just made the original Dark Horse crew admire their DCAG even more.

Just as Luck downed a cup of orange juice alarms started ringing off in the mess hall. All the pilots of the air wing recognized the pattern as that of the scramble alarms. At first all of them thought it was a drill. Duke had run several random scramble drills before, but he never did it during lunch. They began looking at each other, questioning in their minds how to react.

Luck immediately stood up and said in a loud voice so all the pilots and crew of the air wing could hear, "Time to scramble!"

Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed out of the mess. The maintenance crew rushed to the planes while the pilots went to the locker rooms where their flight gear was stored. They raced to enter their lock combinations and proceeded to suit up. As Luck was putting his flight gear on he could feel that something was uniquely different this time from the other times that they had done scramble drills. It felt surprisingly real, a sense that only a bloodied warrior could understand. He looked at his fellow pilots and could see it in their eyes. They felt it too.

As soon as he was done Luck rushed out of the locker rooms to the Super Hornet hanger. Once he saw the F/A-18Es he found that there were indeed live weapons attached under the wings. Each was armed with two AIM-9X Sidewinders, six AIM-120 AMRAAMs, two 480 gallon fuel tanks, and a centerline 380 gallon fuel tank with an IRST built into the front.

Duke was already climbing into the cockpit of his own Super Hornet. "Luck, you'll be on my wing. Our radio callsigns are Horseman One and Horseman Lead!" Just then he flipped the switch to spool up the engines.

Luck climbed into the cockpit of his Super Hornet. As he flipped on the switch for the batteries he looked up and was able to see Stix and Mozart racing outside to get to the other two Super Hornets. Luck spooled up the engines and flipped the switch to close the canopy. He then turned on his radio to talk to Duke. "Horseman Lead, Horseman One, this is a drill right?"

"Negative, Horseman One. We might have a real fight on our hands."

"Against who?"

"Switch to the emergency channel and you'll hear what I'm hearing."

Luck switched to the emergency channel, which was normally used for the purpose of radioing in natural disasters or civilian boats in need of help. Instead he heard a warning screech followed by a news broadcast. "...hours ago the Vietnamese Air Force attacked various Chinese warships and military positions held in the Spratly Islands as a response to Chinese mobilizations during military drills. The Chinese government has called the attack unprovoked and is launching a full counter offensive on all of the Spratly Islands as a direct response. Local radars have tracked Chinese warships and warplanes on a direct course to the Spratly Islands. As far as we know they have orders to seize the islands despite any claims to them by those of other South East Asian nations…"

Luck turned off the radio. He looked over at Mozart and Stix as they were just now in the process of spooling up and closing their canopies. He then looked ahead and saw Duke taxi his Super Hornet out of the hanger towards the beginning of the runway. He quickly followed suit right behind Duke.

"Tower, Horseman Lead, requesting clearance for my flight to take off."

"Horseman Lead, Tower, you are cleared for take off."

Stix and Mozart were soon taxiing behind them. Duke went to full afterburner and took off the runway with Luck taking off right on his wing. Stix and Mozart weren't far behind.

* * *

**Location: Sin Cowe Island, Spratly Islands, South China Sea**

Captain Nguyen Van Han was on the radio scrambling to figure out what was going on. He heard reports of an incoming attack from the Chinese, but he had no idea what the force composition was or when it would arrive. Suddenly all communications crashed. Every time he would pick up the radio all he would get was static. It was then that he heard what sounded like many jet engines approaching from outside. He walked out of the command building and looked up in the sky only to find that the air space above him was filled with a large fleet of military aircraft. He could not distinguish any of the types of aircraft, with the exception being a few large cargo aircraft.

It was then that his eyes fell on one cargo aircraft that was flying low right towards his island. He looked behind it and could see two more cargo aircraft in line behind it. He estimated that they were only at about 8,000 feet. As the first one flew over the island he could see shapes dropping out of the rear end. Each shape came with a dark green parachute. It was then that he recognized them as paratroops. He immediately turned to his Staff Sergeant and ordered him to arm the men. His staff sergeant on the other hand was pointing frantically at the horizon behind the cargo aircraft. When Han's eyes saw what he was pointing at, they lit up with a mix of surprise and fear. It was the contrail of a supersonic cruise missile coming straight toward them.

"Everyone out of the building!" he shouted. However, he was far too late. The cruise missile went in a high arc before coming down on the building and slamming into it, sending a hot wave of blast and shrapnel throughout the entire structure. Han fell on his knees as the building shook from the impact. He looked up just in time to catch the wall falling over and collapsing down on him.

* * *

**Location: 20,000 feet and 60 miles Southeast of Mischief Reef, Eastern Spratly Islands**

Duke, Luck, Mozart, and Stix were in a four ship formation just entering the air space above the Spratly Islands. From where they were they could see several of the Spratly Islands burning in the distance as stacks of black smoke were littered about the waters. There was a layer of scattered clouds at 14,000 feet that was slightly blocking their view but the black smoke and flashes of light from explosions were unmistakable from beneath them.

Duke had his radar on and was scanning 150 miles out in front of them over the islands. The CAG had ordered his men to keep their radars off so as not to expose themselves further. Active radars could be easily seen by modern Radar Warning Receivers (RWR). Duke saw a massive force that looked like a cloud of hostile contacts sweeping over the islands from the northwest and assuming control over the area. "Horseman One, Horseman lead, where are our Growlers?"

Luck checked his satellite based communications systems, which showed friendlies and enemies on a large map of the battle space that could be loaded on his center multi-functional display. He checked it and was able to see that the four Australian Growlers were 20 miles behind them. 15 miles behind the Growlers were six Thai Gripens followed by two British Gripens. The other six Gripens were just in the process of getting into the air. "They're two-zero miles behind us, Lead. The rest of the air wing is following suit. We were up pretty early," Luck answered.

The Dark Horses Air Wing was not yet intended for actual fighting and was configured more or less to train the pilots of nations allied to the United States in air-to-air combat. Because of this they did not have an AWACs aircraft available or even a refueling tanker aircraft attached to the air wing. They had to do everything on their own if they were drawn into a fight. As if to make matters worse their air strip was stationed closer to the fighting than any tactical fighter squadron of any air force among the allied nations in South East Asia.

Duke had been radioing for orders constantly and had gotten nothing from the higher command echelon of the Dark Horses. The leaders of the United States were busy trying to make up the decision to engage or not. It was unclear if they wanted to intervene over the Spratly Islands or simply let the Chinese have the Islands in light of the intense focus that they had to place on rebuilding the Middle East. That wasn't the only issue. Budget cuts that had happened to the US armed forces had left them much smaller than usual. The vast majority of those forces were in and around the Middle East conducting a mission that was the absolute top priority of the executive administration: getting the flow of oil restored. However, using a mercenary air wing to intervene had some significant advantages. One of those was being able to engage the enemy without having the responsibility of using the uniformed armed services.

As the four Super Hornet pilots waited for orders they came closer and closer to the contested area. Luck decided to activate his IRST sensor and use it to scan from long range to see what he could find. He slaved his sensor toward one of the islands 50 miles away and saw that it was on fire. A Chinese destroyer was right next to it firing big cannon rounds into the side of the island.

"Horseman Flight, we have confirmation," Duke said over the radio, meaning he had finally received orders. "Vietnamese forces are mobilizing to engage the Chinese. The Philippine and Bruneian governments started moving their own forces to reinforce defenses on their own islands. The Malaysians have sent Sukhoi fighters to engage Chinese forces taking over their islands in the south. We can expect aircraft to arrive here within the hour. Our orders are to wait until they arrive before providing assistance. Until then, we are to not fire unless fired upon."

It was clear to all of the pilots that the US simply wanted to wait and see if the other South East Asian nations involved in the Spratly Islands were going engage themselves. They certainly did not want to order the Dark Horses to engage and not have anyone willing to fight alongside them. The Dark Horses did not want that to happen either.

"Horseman One, roger," Luck said.

"Horseman Two, roger," Mozart responded.

"Horseman Three, roger," Stix confirmed.

As Luck was scanning with his IRST he decided to switch to look at air targets. It was then that he saw a group of four heat signatures 30 miles away at 15,000 feet and heading straight for them at supersonic speeds. Duke had his radar on a broad search band to follow the movements of the Chinese force as a whole, but he wasn't able to focus on any specific units with his radar in that mode. Since Duke was preoccupied he took the liberty of focusing his IRST on the four signatures. He was able to see that they were four Chinese J-10 Dragons surfing over the clouds heading straight for them. At first he thought that it was impossible for the J-10s to be there since they didn't have the range to make it here from mainland China or even the Paracel Islands, that is unless they abused the crap out of their aerial refueling tankers. "Uh oh," he said upon seeing them.

"Horseman One, what is it?" Duke asked.

"Four J-Tens, eleven o'clock, angle one-five, three-zero miles, and closing at mach one."

Duke narrowed the focus of his radar and saw the incoming contacts. "Horseman Flight, weapons hot," he ordered, causing all of the Super Hornet pilots to flip on their Master Arms Switch.

The rules of engagement specifically stated that an active radar lock was as good as being shot at. As of yet the Dark Horses weren't getting any warnings from their RWRs. They then got a radio transmission on an open channel. One of the pilots with a terrible accent said, "This is PLAAF to unknown F-Eighteen pilots, you are to leave this air space immediately. This area belongs to the People's Republic of China now."

Duke then used the radio that was set to talk to his men, "We have orders to not pull back, but to wait for the Malaysians, who are about five-zero miles south of us. We need to stall for time." With his men informed he then switch to the open channel to talk to the Chinese J-10 pilots. "Affirmative, we read you loud and clear. Turning around, over." The CAG made a slow turn to the right that would keep him moving along the edge of the Spratly Islands ring. His men followed him in formation.

To the Chinese pilot this was not good enough. He got back on the radio and said forcefully, "Clear out of this area now!"

"Affirmative, clearing out of the area," Duke replied before increasing his turn slightly to turn away from the edge of the Spratly Islands. However, he still did this slowly, making the corrections as minutely as possible.

Luck looked over at the direction the J-10s were coming and was able to seem them as tiny dots about 15 miles away. They were coming well into visual range and were starting to climb upward, heading directly for them. Duke immediately decided to pull away even more. The other Super Hornet pilots maintained their position in formation with him and followed.

It was then that Luck checked his satellite map. The Malaysian Su-30MKMs were not linked to the Dark Horses network since they relied on their own Russian-made data link. This meant that when they did arrive the F/A-18E pilots would not be able to see them or even interact with them apart from using their radios. This was not the only problem. The Malaysians did not have the IFF transponders that allowed them to differentiate between the Dark Horses and the Chinese. Luck hoped Duke was taking all of this into account. "Horseman Lead, this is One, I don't know if the Malaysians will be able to tell us apart from the Chinese. They aren't keyed into our IFF. Perhaps we should pull back."

"Affirmative, One," Duke replied. He was clearly starting to think the same thing as the situation unfolded. "Let's turn around and wait for the Malaysians. When they arrive we'll decide what to do from there."

Luck looked back over at the J-10s and could see that they were still closing distance. They were now about 8 miles out behind them and still closing. As Luck looked at the ordnance under their wings he was able to see that each aircraft had six air-to-air missiles. This caused him and the other Super Hornet pilots to get increasingly nervous. They were right on the edge of a war with missiles pointed at them.

* * *

**Red Crown: So one of the things I find myself back to doing again are cliff hangers. It's a bad habit I know, but nonetheless one I excel at. More reviews means a sooner update! **


	5. Too Many

**To Nguyen The Hung: Thank you very much for telling me this. I will go back and make the alterations as soon as I get a chance. I am really happy to hear from you and want to thank you again for the information. **

**-Red Crown**

_"I don't hate you… I just don't like that you exist."_

― Gena Showalter, _Seduce the Darkness_

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE: **_"Too Many"_**

**Date: December 18, 2016**

**Time: 1300 hours, 1:00 P.M. (Spratly Time)**

**Location: 20,000 feet and 60 miles East of Mischief Reef, Eastern Spratly Islands**

The four Super Hornets turned around and headed away from the edge of the Spratlys. Seven miles behind them were four J-10 Dragons closing on their position.

Luck decided to use his IRST to scan for a broad area in the sky 50 miles out in front of him. Since they were now facing away from the Spratly Islands he could see the heat signatures from the Growlers and Gripens from the rest of his air wing 20 miles away. However, right at the edge of his IRST vision was a flight of four jets to the south that he did not recognize. He slaved his IRST to them and confirmed that they were in fact the Malaysian Su-30MKMs. He then got on the radio to talk to Duke, "Horseman Lead, this is One, the Malaysians are five-zero miles out."

To their amazement all of their radar lock warning alarms started to go off. When they checked their RWRs they saw that it was not the J-10s behind them who had locked onto them. The radar lock surprisingly came from the Su-30MKMs.

Duke immediately got on the radio and switched to an open channel, "This is Horseman Lead to Malaysian fighters, we are an ally, do not fire on us!"

However, his warning was too late. The Malaysians released multiple medium range radar guided R-77 missiles. As if to make this worse, the Su-30MKM had an advance radar that could track and attack multiple targets at once, meaning that they could lock on to all of the Super Hornets and the J-10s at the same time and launch a missile at every single one of them. This was exactly what happened. The warning in their cockpits changed from a missile lock to a more frantic missile launch. Each missile showed up as a tiny white dot on their RWR that was zooming at them at a speed of mach 4, cutting down the 50 miles of separation in seconds.

"I'm spiked!" said Stix over the radio.

Duke came on the radio after her. "We're all spiked! Break away!"

Immediately all of the pilots from both sides took action. The Chinese J-10s released bundles of chaff and broke away into evasive maneuvers. Duke and his flight dropped their external fuel tanks and split their formation. Duke went left and Luck stayed on his wing. Mozart went right with Stix on his wing. They set the missiles off to their sides and as the distance narrowed to 20 miles they started releasing chaff and activated their defensive internal jamming. The jamming blinded two missiles aimed at Mozart and Stix, causing them to lose their lock and stop following them. For the other two missiles sent at Duke and Luck they had to roll inverted while constantly punching out chaff and pulled into a split-S a few second before the distance narrowed to nothing. Both Super Hornet pilots went inverted and pulled their aircraft down just in time to dodge two missiles fire at them. Each missile appeared as a quick white streak that went right by them without detonating.

The Chinese on the other hand weren't so lucky. They maneuvered, but they simply released chaff and went in scattered directions. There was no tact to their maneuvers and their internal jammers weren't as good as those of the Super Hornet. All of the J-10s were struck with R-77s. The exploding rod warhead of each R-77 would unleash itself upon its target and rip the plane apart. When Duke, Luck, Mozart, and Stix finally came out of their maneuvers they looked around and were able to spot four burning wrecks of the Chinese fighters as they fell from the sky. Each wreck was followed by an ejection and a parachute.

The CAG then said, "Horseman Flight, rejoin formation."

Before they could regroup into formation they received another missile launch warning. They checked their RWRs and saw that it was coming from the Malaysian Su-30MKMs again. They had launched a second set of missiles as them.

"Shit!" Stix shouted over the radio. "They still don't recognize us!"

"Do not fire back!" Duke commanded over the radio. "Horseman Lead to Panther flight, are you on our frequency!"

It was then they wondered who Duke was trying to talk to. They quickly heard a voice with a scratchy Australian Sydney accent that they recognized belonged to Steel. "Panther Lead here, we see what's going on. We're trying to get in touch with the Malaysians. I've got two of my Growlers with their jammers warmed up. They're blasting the missiles now."

At that moment all of the missile launch warning alarms in their cockpits ceased as all of the Malaysian missiles lost sight of their targets. The Australian Growlers had expertly blasted the missiles with powerful jamming waves, making them blind and wander aimlessly passed the Super Hornets to disappear into the horizon. However, the Su-30MKMs still had a radar lock on the Super Hornets. Duke checked his radar and could see that one of the Thai Gripens had flown up really close to the Su-30MKMs. Luck watched through his IRST at long distance. He could see the JAS-39D Gripen come up right alongside the Su-30MKM flight and rock its wings to get the Malaysian pilots' attention. They had no idea what was happening between the Gripen crew and the Malaysian pilots, but the Malaysians took off their radar lock, which was a step in the right direction.

Steel's voice came back over the radio. "Horseman Lead, Panther Lead, got the problem. They heard you, but the Malaysian pilots didn't speak good English. One of our Thai backseaters speaks fluent Malaysian so he told them you were friendlies."

"Good to know," replied a slightly agitated Duke.

"Horseman Lead, Panther Lead, I've got a whole cloud of contacts two-five miles northeast of you, angle one-two, spreading out to various areas. The cloud spans ten miles wide. Do you see the same thing?"

Once Luck, Mozart, and Stix rejoined on Duke he turned back into the Spratly Islands and set his radar to where Steel was talking about. To his amazement he found a cloud of radar contacts 10 miles wide that was moving forward. Luck immediately slaved the IRST sensor to the cloud. When his lens finally adjusted he was able to see a large formation of small unmanned drones.

"Horseman Lead, Horseman One, the cloud is a large formation of unmanned drones."

Duke noticed that the drones were specifically hovering over the islands and were spreading out to cover the entire area above the positions taken over by the Chinese.

"Horseman Lead, Panther Lead, our allies are launching a volley of missiles at the drones. They're trying to knock out as many of the drones as they can."

It was then that all the Dark Horse pilots watched as a barrage of radar-guided missiles came streaming in from all the directions of the allied nations forces. These missiles came from ships, land-based SAM sites, and allied warplanes. From a distance all they could see were many streaks from contrails left behind from the missile. The large formation of drones was barely visible in the distance, but they could see many explosions from the good impacts on the drones. The destroyed drones merely made the cluster on the radar look even more indistinguishable from destroyed parts falling through the air.

"We need to help clear out that drone cloud," Duke said. "Okay, we're going to have to do this by radio only. Panther Lead, tell your pilot in the Gripen to tell the Malaysians to lock onto drones in the cloud. Then tell him to get all of the Gripens to lock onto as many drones as they can. Any drones are fine. Those drones are blinding our ability to see clearly over the battlefield."

"Roger Horseman Lead," Steel replied.

While Steel was communicating his plan to the Gripens, who in turn were communicating the same thing to the Malaysians, Duke then gave the same orders to his flight. "Horseman Flight, my radar will act as the hub." The APG-79 AESA radar of the Super Hornet had amazing targeting and tracking capabilities. It could be used to network all of his wingmen's AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles together and would allow Duke to acquire a lock onto all of the targets without anyone else in his flight needing to turn on their radars. While Duke achieved a lock on all of the targets with his radar, a total of 24 targets, all of his wingmen gave control of their missile radars to that of Duke's. "Horseman Lead, Engaging, Fox Three!" he called out before pressing the fire button.

All six of Duke's AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles dropped off the underside of his Super Hornet before their rocket motors activated, sending them streaking forward to accelerate to four times the speed of sound.

"Horseman One, Engaging, Fox Three! Fox Three!"

"Horseman Two, Engaging, Fox Three!"

"Horseman Three, Engaging, Fox Three!"

The process repeated itself for the three remaining Super Hornets. All of their AMRAAM missiles were sent streaming forward toward selected targets in the drone formation. Within a matter of seconds all of their missiles hit drones and they could see a series of explosions in the distance from their own missiles.

"Good kills, flight," Duke said as he viewed the damage on radar. He watches as a good portion of the drone formation in front of him was struck and broke apart on the radar. However, as the drones that were taken out seemed to fall out he could see more drones on the radar. They had not even put a dent in the drone formations in the grand scheme of things. There were just too many.

Steel's voice came over the radio, "Let me try something a little different. I'm going to blast them with jamming waves."

Duke turned away and led the flight of Super Hornets out of the way of the Growlers line of sight so as not to get jammed. Steel already had all of the EA-18Gs in his flight warm up their jammers. He then divided up the drone cloud to into portions for his men to focus on. "Jamming," he said once he and his men initiated the blast.

As the jamming waves hit the enemy drones their communication links with their land-based controllers, which were in turn reliant on satellites, became severed. Like US drones, the ones the Chinese were using were programmed to fly away and head back to base if they lost their connection. Duke watched on his radar as a large portion of the drone cloud immediately stopped loitering above the islands and turned back around to head back to their landing strips in China.

"It's working Panther Lead," Duke said. "Keep it up." Just then Duke saw six missiles on radar come out from the enemy direction. They were heading straight for the Growlers. "Panther Lead, your spiked!"

Steel immediately flipped on his radar and switched to a medium range scan. He found that there were six supersonic missiles coming directly from 17 miles ahead and eating the distance in nanoseconds. At first he intensified his jamming focus on the incoming missiles, but they didn't lose lock. This caused him to believe that they were anti-radar missiles that were homing in on his jammers. However, by the time he had realized this it was almost too late. He ordered the other Growlers to shut off their jammers, but the missiles had closed the distance by then.

Each Growler broke formation and released chaff and flare. Two Growlers were hit. The first Growler was hit right in the wing. The exploding rod warhead ripped right through the aluminum-composite flesh of the war bird, tearing it off entirely. The Growler fell into a spin and both occupants ejected. The second Growler was hit right on the nose. The explosion went right through the nose cone, through the radar, and killed both of the crew in less than a second. The front half of the Growler began to disintegrate and the aircraft went into a tumble.

Mozart scanned the islands with his IRST he looked at the contrail of the missiles and followed the general direction that they had come from. What he found was a single Chinese Navy _Luyang II_-class destroyer that was speeding toward them from one of the conquered islands. The ship was now 15 miles from their current position. The pilots had been so preoccupied with the drones that they did not notice several of the warships moving out further to expand the perimeter of the Chinese assault. Unfortunately for this warship it had decided to fire at his comrades well within the range of the AIM-9X missile.

The new AIM-9X Sidewinder block II had a software upgrade that allowed it to be used against air-to-surface targets. When the missile was linked with an advanced IRST it possessed the ability to lock onto anything with a defined heat signature and the Chinese destroyer's exhaust vents were acting as a perfect target.

"Horseman Three here, I've got a tally on the ship that fired those missiles. I'm going to hit it with Sidewinders." The Canadian selected his Sidewinders and achieved a lock on the vessel. The AIM-9X Sidewinder only had a 20 pound explosive warhead, which was enough to destroy most aircraft and small vehicles, but not nearly enough to sink a ship. Mozart knew this but at the moment doing something to avenge the Growlers was better than doing nothing at all. "Fox two! Fox two!" He let loose one AIM-9X and then followed with the other.

Both missiles shot off his wingtips and made a bee-line for the warship. The first one connected right on the main structure of the ship and released a blast of heat and shrapnel that slammed into the body of the Chinese beast. The second missile followed with equal effect. To Mozart's dismay only a small fire broke out on the vessel. However, his shots had allowed the rest of the Super Hornet pilots to spot its location. Duke immediately got on the radio and said, "Horseman Flight, take out that ship!"

Luck, Stix, and Duke immediately locked onto the destroyer with IRST sensors before unleashing their own Sidewinders. "Fox Two! Fox Two! Fox Two!" One after the other, six Sidewinder missiles pounded into the body of the serpentine machine, each releasing a discharge of heat and shrapnel. A cloud of dust and ash rose over the warship and blinded the view of the metal beast from their IRST sensors. Within the matter of a few minutes the cloud rose and revealed the vessel to be laden with fire. The ship was under power and in full retreat, seeking to return to a port to lick its wounds.

Luck for some reason felt that it was not good enough for the ship to get away. He was angry over the fact that it killed members of his air wing. "Horseman One, switching to gun. I'll move in and finish it off," he said as he selected his 20mm cannon.

Stix and Mozart exchanged a look at each other in formation to confirm that they were both thinking the same thing: Luck was crazy. Going within gun range to take out the ship would dangerously expose himself to any other threats that existed at low altitude, including weapons on the ship.

"Negative, Horseman One!" the CAG said over the radio. "All our ordnance is expended. We need to return to base to rearm and regroup. We'll get more information and figure out what the hell is going on here."

Duke led them back around to Palawan as the Gripens moved in to continue fighting in their place. Both remaining Growlers decided to remain on station a little while longer to utilize their jammers to the best advantage that they could.

* * *

**Time: 1612 hours, 4:12 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

The Super Hornets landed back at Palawan Air Base and the pilots exited their aircraft. Each of them felt mentally exhausted and were slightly in shock of the events that had taken place within the past few hours. The war itself felt surreal and the loss of their comrades had not made that feeling any better.

Duke immediately got out of the cockpit. He pointed to Stix and Mozart and said, "You two, stay there. You'll be rearmed, but don't take off until I come back." He then pointed to Luck and said a voice that was borderline harsh, "You, come with me."

Luck climbed out of his cockpit as the maintenance crews rushed new Sidewinders and AMRAAMs to the F/A-18E Super Hornets. Luck followed his CAG and realized that he was going to the CCIC building, which was the hub of information for the base. As they were walking Duke looked him in the eyes and said, "Luck, what the hell was that back there?"

"What?"

"You know damn well what. Were you seriously going to go after that ship with your gun?"

"Yes, and I'm confident I could have taken it out. The Chinese ship was the farthest and only asset they had that close to our position and the ship was crippled."

This time Duke's voice softened a little. "I know that's what it looked like, but it was still high risk for little gain. Look I know we just lost some friends back there. It's hard on all of us but I need you to stay collected and not make rash decisions like that." He then spared his subordinate a glance. Much to Luck's surprise, Duke's eyes held certain worry instead of their usual hardness. "I especially need _you_ of all people to be collected. If you start doing shit like that it will have an effect on the others."

At that moment Luck realized that his decision was charged with anger. The risk of his decision was medium at best, but the gain simply was not worth it at all. He felt wrong for what he did and knew that Duke was right. "That won't happen again," Luck responded.

Duke nodded with his head before he told his subordinate to return to his plane and entered the CCIC. As Luck walked back he started to reflect on why he had wanted to strafe the ship. He was not normally like this and when he made that decision he certainly was not his normal self. As he made his way back to his plane he saw Stix and Mozart were sitting in their aircraft just as Duke had ordered.

"You okay, Luck?" asked Mozart.

"Yeah, I'm fine," came the reply.

Stix, however, was looking far away towards the edge of the Island. Palawan Air Base was literally just three miles from the nearest harbor at the edge of the island. "Hey, guys, do you remember seeing that ship there when we took off?"

Luck and Mozart looked where her eyes were looking and could see the harbor. A large cargo ship had docked at the harbor. Marked on the side of the hull was the flag of the Russian Federation. They could see a lot of commotion going on around the ship as the back unfolded down into a ramp and cargo was off-loaded.

They sat watching the ship for a few minutes before they finally guessed that it was the Russian contingent to the air wing. "Looks like the bastards showed up already," Mozart said.

After a few minutes they spotted Duke coming back from the CCIC. Once he got to them he said, "All of you can get out of your planes and remain on standby."

"What?" replied all of the pilots simultaneously.

"Right now our equipment is not compatible with a lot of the countries involved in the fighting. Allied Command has decided to divide the nations fighting the Chinese into two forces: ones that use western equipment and ones that use Russian equipment. The two forces are going to take turns fighting the Chinese and since the Vietnamese and Malaysians have the most at stake here they get the first crack at them. When the switch occurs the force that relies on western gear will take over and be lead by Australia, Singapore, and Thailand."

"When does the switch happen?" asked Stix.

"That time is yet be designated. Right now our tech guys are struggling to find a way to make Russian-made networks see us as friendlies and vice versa. I don't have any more information other than that, but it looks like we get a short break for now before our turn to fight starts. We better use it to our advantage and rest while we can. The rest of the air wing will be landing soon," Duke answered.

With that finished the Super Hornet pilots climbed out of their cockpits and headed back to their barracks. Within minutes the Growlers touched down on the airstrip and within the hour the Gripens were back in their hangers.

* * *

Nightfall came after several hours and the temperature dropped. Storm clouds had formed over Palawan and it was raining outside.

Steel took the loss of his wingmen hard. The Growler community in Australia was small and tightly knit. Every one of the Australian Growler pilots and crew knew each other well. There was no word on the crew that ejected and this caused Steel great internal agony that he worked hard not to show. He left to his barracks and locked his door to quietly mourn the loss of his men.

The team later found out from Duke that allied commanders had formed a short-term military alliance of all the nations involved in the fighting named the South East Asia Coalition, also known as SEAC (pronounced like the word "seek"). SEAC consisted of Vietnam, Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei, the Philippines, Thailand, and Australia. Taiwan had asked to join but they were refused with the idea that if Taiwan started fighting the Chinese might respond by launching an invasion of their nation to reintegrate it back into the mainland. The United States had decided to not risk an all-out war with China over the Spratlys, but they were going to lend heavy support and focus their resources intensely on combating the Chinese forces. One of the primary elements of that support package was going to be the Dark Horses Air Wing, which was going to be counted on the side of the forces that used western equipment. It was decided that when the Russians arrived they would operate with the SEAC nations using Russian equipment.

Luck, Stix, Mozart, and Frost were spending their hours in the wardroom and playing a game of cards to pass the time. A window in the wardroom presented a view outside of the airstrip and the gloomy rainy atmosphere. However, none of them were really paying attention to the card game. There was not much else they could think of besides the war and the inevitable arrival of the Russians. Their minds were absent from the game as well as the room.

Suddenly Duke walked in, his flight suit soaked from the rain. "The Russians are here," he said. "Let's go out and greet our new air wing mates."

There was a pause in the room before Stix said, "Let's not kid ourselves about the 'greeting' part."

Duke gave her a stern look, but said nothing more. Normally he would not tolerate such snide comments like that, but for once he decided he would make an exception. He knew of the original Dark Horses' past experiences with the Russians, and knew just as well they had reason to hate them. That hate was potentially detrimental, but Duke also knew it wasn't going to go away, no matter what he tried to do.

Even so, he still said, "Remember earlier when I said we would talk about this later. It's because I found out who they are sending to join us and one of their pilots is someone you may possibly know."

At this the original Dark Horse pilots eyes lit up with surprise as there was only one Russian pilot that they knew by name.

"Holy shit," Luck said. The fact that Luck had cursed was surprising to all of them. They looked at him with amazement, but he was looking wide eyed out the window that oversaw the airstrip.

As they looked outside they saw that in the rain were several Russian trucks pulling aircraft onto one of the open tarmacs that spanned the side of the runway. Most of the lights on the base had been turned off. In the dark night the headlights from the trucks and the bright lights on the landing gear of the aircraft were the primary sources of illumination. It was just enough light for them to see clearly. They could quickly identify each of the aircraft. There were seven aircraft in total.

Four of them had long straight wings, a skinny fuselage with two engines, and a simple tail-plane. They were Su-25 Frogfoot attack aircraft painted in old-fashioned light green and light brown patchy camouflage. These aircraft were roughly comparable to the American A-10 Warthog in terms of their design. The Su-25 Frogfoot was a rugged and robust machine designed for supporting ground forces closely.

The next two of the aircraft were massive in size. They had a huge body, long dart-like fuselage, and two incredibly big turbine engines. These aircraft were MiG-31 Foxhounds and had a simply pale gun-metal grey paint scheme with a black nose. The MiG-31 was a two-seater interceptor capable of incredibly high speeds.

The last aircraft was the one that really caught their eyes. It was bigger than an Su-27 but not as big as a MiG-31. It was painted entirely in black with a white nose cone. It had a sleek fuselage with canards, closely spaced twin engines, and a large forward-swept wing design. These features identified it as an Su-47 Berkut. Aside from the fact that it was a very rare plane to see the most astonishing sight was not the plane itself, but the personal insignia that was painted on the side of the fuselage below the cockpit: a black star outlined in blood red with a blood red outline of the uni-code symbol of the black queen chess piece centered.

"Son of a bitch!" Stix cursed as a flood of old emotions and memories let loose in the initial Dark Horses. They all knew that insignia, and they all had lost someone precious to its bearer.

Duke's voice cut the silence that had filled the room as they stared at the Russian warplanes. "I would like all of you to meet me in the briefing room right now."

The CAG and his men left the wardroom and walked outside through the rain to make it to the briefing room. Once they got inside they saw that there were eight Russian aviators seated in the chairs up front. None of them were recognizable. They did notice that their flight suits were a light blue color. They had black boots and wore thin black gloves. On their heads were black fur ushanka hats with the ear flaps tied up. They each had a blue flight jacket with a black fur inside. Standing behind them was a beautiful young Ukrainian woman in an FSB uniform wearing silver framed glasses and waiting patiently.

"These are the Frogfoot and Foxhound pilots," Duke introduced. "We're going to have to work with them in the future so it's important to gain their trust."

One of the pilots stood up and headed over to Luck. This Russian had a symbol of a Foxhound squadron on the shoulder of his jacket. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. His height was medium and he was skinny. His face was smooth and his light brown hazel eyes were very round, almost like those of a puppy. His medium-short length hair was light brown and shaggy looking. He had a big smile and extended a hand to Luck. With a cheerful voice that had a small accent he said, "My name is Vladimir Nikolaivich Federov. It is nice to meet you."

Luck did not return the handshake. He did not even speak. He just stared at him with an embittered glare. After a few seconds Vladimir withdrew his hand and went back to take his seat next to his fellow Russians.

None of Duke's subordinates seemed welcoming. None of them were smiling or talking. They merely walked to the front of the briefing room and crossed their arms. The Russian pilots also had their arms crossed and did not seem to be forward or welcoming either after seeing one of their own snubbed. Duke merely stroked his chin as he mulled how he was going to resolve this.

Just then the door opened and in came what the Dark Horse pilots had all dreaded to see: a tall muscular Russian with ice-cold grayish blue eyes. Unlike the other Russians, he was wearing a flight suit that was a much darker shade of green than that of the allies, though this was accompanied by the same black fur ushanka hat with the ear flaps tied up. Also unlike the other Russians, he had a black flight jacket with grey fur lining on the inside. The sound of his footsteps was comparatively deeper due to his heavy black boots. On his hands were a pair of black gloves and in one of those hands was a small weatherproof notebook.

Krylov walked right up to Duke and handed him a piece of paper out of the notebook. With a thick accent he said, "My men will set up our equipment on the open tarmacs outside. This is a list of all our gear."

Duke nodded his head and said, "That's fine. Let me know if you need anything else." He then motioned to the Dark Horse pilots and said, "These are the men I told you about in my email. You've already met them."

It was then that Krylov's eyes fell on them. The only pilot the Russian mercenary recognized from their group was Luck since he was the only one he met with in person. What he did not know was that all of the pilots recognized him because they had been shown his picture in Israel and had fought against him alongside Luck.

As the Russian ace pilot recognized his former adversary his lips curled into a smirk. "Tony," he said, "I see you have chosen the life of a mercenary, just like me."

Luck responded quickly and defensively, "I'm nothing like you. Keep that in mind."

Krylov's expression then went back to being cold and emotionless. "Do not worry, Tony. I remember," he stated, memories of his own flooding back into his mind. He then looked more closely at the other pilots around Luck. "Now, where have I met the rest of you?"

"You killed my wingman," Mozart said with winter level coldness.

The Russian mercenary looked at him before replying, "Be more specific, _Kanadskiy_. I have killed many."

"Over Greece when you were after Tony."

As Krylov remembered the Hornet that he took out, he gave a nod of acknowledgment to the Canadian. He then looked at Stix. "You?"

If anything, Stix was the most calm out of the allied pilots. She calmly answered, "The Growler over Greece."

Krylov gave another nod of acknowledgment as he remembered that the pilot of that Growler was also a friend of Tony's. His ice cold gaze then fell on Frost. "And you?"

With bitterness that was not at all hidden in her voice the British woman said, "You shot out my parachute."

To this Krylov's lips briefly curled into a smirk again. "Ah, so that was you," he said, sounding as if he were recalling a good memory. "I am impressed you survived."

"Listen," Duke said in an authoritative voice, "Right now we all have a bigger and more powerful enemy in the Chinese. I need all of you to work together in order for this air wing to be effective. You guys need to bury whatever baggage that is in your past right now and work as a team."

Completely ignoring the CAG's words, Krylov looked directly at the piercing brown eyes that belonged to Luck. "Tony, tell me, how many of your friends have I killed?"

Luck's eyes narrowed with hate as he answered, "Too many."

A few tense moments passed before Krylov coldly and viciously responded, "Good."

The Russian ace pilot adjusted his hat, turned his back to them, and walked out of the briefing room to head to his barracks. The other Russian aviators stood up and followed him out. The Ukrainian woman walked with great haste to catch up to Krylov. Vladimir stole a sympathetic glance at the allied pilots as he was leaving. Shortly after that Duke watched as his own men left for their barracks. His one goal of having a united air wing now seemed to be so distant.

* * *

**Red Crown: As always, more reviews will lead to a sooner update!**


	6. Moscow Needs No Heroes

_"Death is the solution to all problems. No man - no problem."_

―Joseph Stalin

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: "_**Moscow Needs No Heroes"**_

**Date: December 19, 2016**

**Time: 0700 hours, 7:00 A.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Duke had everyone gathered in the briefing room early in the morning. The Russians showed up as well since it was their best indication of learning what was going on. The CAG dimmed the lights in the room and switched on the overhead projector. An image became visible on the screen as it showed a map of the Spratlys with Chinese forces in red and SEAC forces in blue. Almost all of the islands had been taken over. There were a few islands to the west that were only partially blue and a few in the south that were blue only because the Chinese had not gotten to them yet. The ones in the far east were mostly red with some partially blue.

"The Chinese are kicking our ass," Duke said. "They have taken over a vast majority of the Spratlys. What's worse is that all of the operations seem to be run by this General."

The image on the screen changed to that of a Chinese General of the PLA. He had a snake-like scar that went down along the side of his cheek. In the photo the general was on his way out of a limousine. Getting out of the limo next to him was a pilot that all of the original Dark Horse pilots recognized as Major Feng from their operation in Russia, causing them to exchange knowing glances with each other as a result.

Duke continued, "His name is General Yang Hu. At this time, he has managed to get roughly two thirds of China's military under his command, enough to equally match all the nations of SEAC combined at sea and to overwhelmingly outnumber us in the air." He then tapped a few more keys on his console, "Here's a rough assessment of the air and sea assets that both sides have available that can reach the Spratlys from their mainland."

The CAG flipped a switch that allowed them to see two lists:

_SEAC Forces:_

_242 combat aircraft_

_50 submarines_

_208 warships_

_Chinese Forces:_

_380 combat aircraft_

_53 submarines_

_233 warships_

As their eyes examined the list they started to realize that the sea aspect seemed reasonably matched, but the air aspect of the war was heavily one sided to China's benefit. They were extremely outnumbered.

Duke carried on, "The quintessential fighter of the Chinese here is the J-Ten Dragon." He flipped to a new slide that showed a picture of a J-10 Dragon built by the Chinese. "General Yang has roughly two-hundred Dragons at his disposal. It is a light weight fighter aircraft that has capabilities roughly comparable to an F-Sixteen. I highly recommend that you don't take them lightly."

The CAG then moved on to another slide that showed a satellite picture of two of the Spratly Islands. However, these islands were different from all the rest. They both had something that made them unique and far more important than all of the other islands: an airfield.

"There are only two islands in the Spratlys that have military-grade airfields: Thitu Island and Itu Aba Island. These Islands are ideal for fighting in the Spratlys because they are located deep in the China Sea, roughly two-hundred-and-fifty miles from the shores of all the nations in South East Asia. Right now we have word that they are transforming both islands into premier military air bases with SAM defenses and squadrons of J-10s. We need to fight our way to those islands and rip up the airfields before it's too late. As of right now the Chinese can deploy fighters anywhere over the Spratlys with the use of those two air strips."

* * *

Frost went into the mess hall for breakfast after the brief. On her way there she looked over at the Russians and saw them preparing for their first operation of the day. The Su-25 Frogfoots were the first to get ready and take off. The MiG-31s were in the process and last was Kylov's Su-47.

She watched as Krylov walked towards the ladder in full flight gear with his helmet under arm and put one hand on the rails. However, right before he was about to climb up the Ukrainian woman in the FSB uniform came running outside and shouted, "Krylov!" causing the Russian ace to stop where he was. The woman quickly grabbed onto Krylov's head and pulled him down a little to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before she turned around and ran away to get off the tarmac. It was unclear whether or not Krylov had been expecting her to do that. He did not even look at her as she went off the tarmac. There was no change in his facial expression. He merely continued his way up the ladder and climbed into the cockpit of his Su-47. As the Berkut taxied onto the runway and took off Frost swore she saw the Ukrainian woman almost crying as he left into the air.

As Frost went into the mess hall she was joined by Stix. She saw that same woman in an FSB uniform enter and get a plate of her own. However, as she watch the woman sit down she started to become curious. Surely if this woman had liked Krylov there must be something in him that was worth liking. Once the British pilot had her own plate she started walking over to where the Ukrainian woman was sitting and quietly eating her meal with red eyes that were indeed an indication of crying.

"Where are you going?" Stix asked. "Luck and Mozart are on the other side of the mess."

Frost replied, "Humor me. Look at that poor girl sitting by herself crying. Let's give her company."

"She's wearing an FSB uniform, Frost," Stix protested.

Frost merely rolled her eyes and made her way to the table. Stix reluctantly decided to follow. As she sat down the woman looked at her for a moment and then went back to looking at her meal.

"Hi there. Mind if we join you?" Frost said to start a conversation.

To her amazement the woman spoke perfect English that was so good she almost sounded legitimately American. "No, please go ahead," the woman replied, after a small moment of hesitation.

The two pilots ate for a few moments in silence before Frost asked her, "Um, are you okay?"

The woman put down her silverware and looked into the ex-Royal Air Force pilot's eyes with a look that fought to conceal her own inner turmoil. "No, I'm not okay. Someone I love is off fighting and I'm not sure if he'll ever come back."

"_Well, getting her to open up was easy enough,"_ Frost thought. It was then that Frost saw just how emotionally vulnerable the woman really was at that moment. She was really desperate for a friend right now. Her current state of mind was also great for getting information from her. "My name is Sophie, but you can call me by my nickname 'Frost.'" She extended a hand to her.

"I'm Lena," she responded as she shook her hand. Lena then extended a hand to Stix. "It's nice to meet you."

"Name's Pat, but you can call me 'Stix.'" She shook her hand.

''Is Krylov the one you love?" the British woman asked with an expression of genuine concern.

Stix suddenly jumped in with less tact since she wanted to get straight to the point. "I got better questions. Why are the Russians here in the first place and what on earth do you see in that man?" This caused her to receive an elbow to the shoulder from Frost. "Ow!"

Lena simply replied, "Don't worry. I have no problem answering all your questions. I guess when you look at him you only see the monster. I see a great man who has been marred by war. The reason he's here, the reason we all are here, is more political than it is strategic. It's kind of difficult to explain."

"We have time," Frost immediately responded before looking over at her friend and saying, "Don't we, Stix?"

"Sure we do," Stix said in agreement.

"Well," Lena said as she began to relax more and seemed at least a little happier that she had someone willing to talk to her. "I met Krylov a little over a year ago in Volgograd. I was sent to spy on him because our superiors feared he was far too unpredictable. He figured me out within a matter of days when I had been ordered to try seducing him. Instead he put a gun to my face and questioned me. I thought he was going kill me, but he didn't. He just told me to keep doing my job. He ordered me to burn a box of his personal belongings on another day and that's when I found his journal. I read it and learned that he absolutely hated Americans because the woman he loved was killed by them in an operation in Sudan that targeted Al-Qaeda encampments."

To this Frost and Stix exchanged a glance with each other, each of them realizing then that this was going to be an interesting story.

Lena continued, "The FSB had decided to use me because I looked almost just like to her. It was a perfect way to mess with Krylov's mind. However, Krylov treated me somewhat kindly. He never hurt me and after I had learned his story I saw that he was merely a man who had been wounded by conflict. I started to like him, but I don't think there was enough of his heart left for me after what war had done to it. He went off to fight some Americans who had threatened the Atlas project and was shot down. That was the last I saw of him for a while."

"When did you see him next?" asked Frost, clearly interested.

"Well, after the meteor strikes and the death of our president Russia fell into civil war with the ultranationalist parties trying to take control from the weakened government. The FSB assigned me to be an aid for a new general of the Russian Federation Air Force."

Lena paused for a moment and started to tear up again as if she was about to recall a painful memory. "The General was very cruel..." she spoke, again with hesitance. "...and did many...horrible things to me."

Both Stix and Frost immediately felt sympathetic to Lena. In an effort to comfort her Frost reached over and gently grabbed Lena's hand with her own. "I'm sorry," she said.

Lena gave a gentle smile to her before she continued on. "I was relocated with him to an airfield in southern Siberia during the Civil War. He kept complaining about an enemy pilot in an Su-35 who took down one of his entire squadrons singlehandedly. I thought it might have been Krylov, but I wasn't sure. I had heard that he sided with the ultranationalists during the war. I would get my answer when ultranationalist forces seized our airfield and that's when we met again for the second time..."

* * *

_**Date: November 28, 2015**_

_**Time: 1300 hours, 1:00 P.M. (Siberia Time)**_

_**Location: Southern Siberia, Russian Federation**_

_Snow was still lightly falling in the cold winter air. The landscape was frozen in the white powder and the airfield was just starting to get covered by the substance again. A crisp cold air gripped the soldiers standing out front of the command building as they dragged dead bodies out from the base complex, each leaving a trail of red in the snow. The breath of those living was easily distinguishable from afar in the crisp air._

_Lena was brought outside with her hands tied behind her back. A soldier used the butt of his rifle to hit the back of her knees, forcing her to fall on them into the snow outside the base. She was lined up in a row of other prisoners with the General she was an aid to right next to her. She looked over at him and saw that the ultranationalists had beaten him senseless and tortured him for all the information they could. They were probably waiting for one of their leaders to come and question him further. She could only guess what they were thinking of doing with her. She looked around at all of the soldiers with Kalashnikov assault rifles and did not like any of the looks she was getting._

_Just then she looked up in the sky and spotted a single Su-35S Super Flanker, painted in the unique white with blue and green splinters camo of the Ultranationalist Air Forces of Russia. Though her vision was fuzzy, Lena thought she could just depict a black star on the side of the fighter. The Su-35 landed on the airstrip and the warbird came to a halt. Out of the cockpit stepped a tall muscular Russian with eyes that were just as cold as the winter itself._

_In spite of the fact that she was being held captive and was possibly about to be given up to soldiers and killed, Lena allowed herself to smile. She had not truly smiled in a long time, thanks to the abusive treatment of the General and the war. However, seeing Krylov again brought her joy._

_Officially, Krylov still held the rank of Major General, which was another reason the ultranationalists counted him as a leader on their side. When Krylov walked off the airfield the soldiers stood at attention and saluted him. He merely nodded to them and told them to carry on. They went back to work disposing of the dead bodies of government loyalists._

_Krylov walked along the row of prisoners looking for any familiar faces. It was then that he got to her and when he saw her he cocked an eyebrow. He found it weird that she was smiling at him under these conditions. What on earth was she thinking?_

"_Lena," he said._

"_Yes, Major General," she replied almost cheerfully._

"_You are about to die and the odds of you getting maltreated by soldiers before it happens is considerable. What are you smiling about?"_

"_It's been a very long time since I've seen you, sir."_

_At that moment Krylov remembered the loyal service that Lena had given him a few months before the war began. If the feelings she still had existed then she would make another useful asset for handling tasks that he thought were minor and troublesome, thus freeing up his time to focus more on fighting the war. That would be good, as he _did _have need of a good secretary to dump unpleasant work onto, and Lena had done this expertly before. At the very least, having her at his side again was well worth considering._

_However, there was still the possibility that Lena had changed in some way, and Krylov knew of only one way to verify it. He reached into his flight gear and pulled out an MR-444 pistol, tossing it to her. With fumbling hands, Lena caught it. "If you are still loyal to me then prove it," Krylov stated, looking over at the man beside her. "Kill your commanding officer."_

_At first, Krylov expected Lena to hesitate with that order, whether out of personal loyalty to her new commander or due to the fact she wasn't really a killer. As such, he could barely contain his amazement as he watched Lena immediately turn and level the pistol at her Russian Federation Air Force General's head, who merely looked at her wide-eyed. And though Lena was turned to the side, Krylov could still see the fury bleed off her face like molten lava._

_"This is for what you did to me," she snarled before pulling the trigger. The gun clicked without firing. Lena continued to look at her General with shear anger before pulling the trigger again, still with no effect. She then realized that there were no bullets in the gun._

_It did not take long for Major General Krylov to formulate in his mind what the General may or may not have done to Lena. Deciding that was all he needed to know, Krylov casually walked up to Lena and took the pistol from her. He ejected the empty magazine in his hand and inserted a full one before pulling the slide back. Without a word he aimed the pistol at the General's forehead and pulled the trigger. The pistol released a thump and a flash. A burst of pink mist violently exploded out the back of his head. The General's lifeless body collapsed to the ground._

_During the whole process, however, Lena's eyes were not on the General, they were on Krylov. She noticed that neither the killing nor resulting death affected him. When he pulled the trigger there was no change in his facial expression at all; he didn't even blink as he watched the General die. There was just nothing that fazed him, much to her fascination._

_As the Major General holstered his pistol his eyes fell on the Ukrainian woman. "Stand up, Lena. None of my men will touch you. I'm reinstating you as my aid and secretary," Krylov said._

_The ultranationalist soldiers that had been hovering over her with assault rifles cut her bindings and stepped away from her. Lena stood up and dusted herself off. She then merely asked, "What would you have me work on first, Major General?"_

* * *

**Time: Present**

"Wait," said Stix, "So he never touched you and he ordered that anyone who did be shot?"

Lena nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what happened. It kept the wrong kind of men away from me. He was also comparatively softer when it came to dealing with me. He was not harsh to me like he was with the soldiers under his command. Those months working under him were the most safe I had ever been during the war."

"So what happened next?"

"The war went very badly for the ultranationalists after months of fighting. The government still had a vast majority of the equipment, numbers, and crucial territory to defeat us. Within the span of ten months they had managed to retake the airfield with Spetsnaz. One Spetsnaz soldier had pulled Krylov out and brought him to his knees. They were about to kill him, but I didn't want him to die. I shouted to the soldier that he was a leader with valuable information. When they asked Krylov who I was he lied to them. He said I was a prisoner whom he had forced to do small tasks for him. They freed me and took Krylov away."

Frost then asked, "When was the next time that you saw him?"

Lena's eyes grew even more sad. "I tried to get information on where he was. However, as a leader of the ultranationalist forces his location was classified above top secret. Meanwhile, I had obtained some respect from the FSB for what I had done. Had I let the Spetsnaz kill Krylov, they would never have had the chance to torture him for information. They assumed that Krylov's story about me being an uncooperative prisoner was true, and that I had sacrificed and done a good service for the government."

A flash of disgust entered into the Ukrainian woman's eyes. "I received a promotion into the ranks of the FSB, becoming an officer. What I didn't know was that the FSB was having trouble breaking Krylov; they had tried many beatings and methods of torture for a full week. They were about to resort to things that would physically maim him for life, but they had devised an even more cruel method to use on him."

"What was it?"

"They were going to use me," Lena answered. "They were going to give him a very powerful dose of a mind invading drug developed by the FSB that would search for dark painful emotions and memories in a person and amplify them to a point that was unbearable. For Krylov that meant he would experience losing his lover in Sudan all over again, at least in his mind. Then they were going to bring me in with the hope that the drugs would induce him into thinking I was his dead lover, Natasha. Since I resembled Natasha they decided to bring in some experts to make me look even more like her by dying my hair darker, having me wear her perfume and her make up among other things."

"Did it work?" asked the British woman.

Lena seemed to tear up even more before she answered with a voice that was almost a whisper, "Yes."

* * *

_**Date: September 27, 2016**_

_**Time: 1000 hours, 10:00 A.M. (Moscow Time)**_

_**Location: ******__Lefortovo Prison, _Moscow, Russian Federation

_Lena walked down the halls of the prison complex with two higher ranking operatives of the FSB under escort. Her hair was darker than its natural color and she had an unknown perfume on her body. And with every step she took, she hated herself even more._

_Soon enough, they stopped at a certain cell, with one of her escorts unlocking and opening the door for her. Slowly, Lena walked inside and saw that one of the walls had a large black glass window; she was definitely being watched. She resisted the urge to glower at that window, lest whoever was on the other side take note of her disgust._

_There in the center of the room she saw Krylov, chained to a table face down, with some kind of barbaric assembly to hold his body about one foot over the table. He was wearing only a set of military issue cargo pants. Nearly all of the skin on his bare upper body was bruised or scarred in some way from beatings and torture, with a fair portion of blood on the table._

_In traditional Russian fashion, Krylov had large portions of his body tattooed over, each image symbolizing his respective affiliations and "crimes". Across his entire back was Red Square under a tricolor flag of black, yellow, and white, the flag of the ultranationalists. On his right shoulder was a worn tattoo of his old mercenary squadron that perished in Sudan, the Crimson Hammers, which took the form of a hammer drenched in blood. On his left shoulder was the tattoo of the ultranationalist air regiment he was in command of, a black square diamond with two long skinny diamonds crossed through it. On his left forearm was another tattoo from the ultranationalist party he had joined, a white Russian Orthodox cross on a stand with an outline in gold and another outline in black. There were several Cyrillic characters placed about the cross with meanings that she did not know of. To the right of the cross was a scepter and to the left was a spear._

_She watched as he seemed to be just waking up. There was a certain haze over his eyes as the drugs took effect. When he finally looked up at her Lena's heart broke. She wished she had not come at all and seeing him like this was very painful for her._

"_Natasha?" Krylov asked as he smelled the perfume and scanned her appearance. The combination of the drugs and her altered appearance provided by the FSB experts was working like a black magic charm. In that moment Krylov truly believed that Lena was Natasha._

_At that exact moment Lena also remembered that she still had a part to play. Biting back tears she very subtly answered, "Yes."_

"_Natasha, I missed you," Krylov said._

"_It's okay. I'm right here," she said as she walked up to him and embraced him as best she could considering the restraints._

_Krylov then said to her, "One of the only regrets I have in my life is that I never told you how much I loved you."_

_Lena replied half if character and half not, "I love you too, Sergei." It was then that she tried to mentally collect herself enough to carry out her job. She feared that she would be shot if she refused to do it. "Listen, I have some questions that I need to ask you regarding enemies of our government. The FSB believes you have the answers and once they get them they will let us be together."_

_Krylov merely responded, "I'll tell you anything you want to know, my love."_ _Within the span of an hour Krylov had said to her everything he knew about the ultranationalist activities. The information he shared with her was significant enough to allow the Russian government to bring the already one-sided war to an end._

_Once it was determined that Krylov had given them everything he knew, the FSB escorted Lena out of the cell and brought her into a small suite at the other side of Lefortovo, where an elderly, ghoulish looking man in a suit awaited her. Lena immediately recognized the man as Boris Bortnikov, Director of the FSB._

_Greeting her gingerly, not unlike a grandfather meeting a child, Director Bortnikov took the time to engage her in small talk, complimenting her for her service to both the FSB and the Motherland. After that small exchange had passed, the Director pulled a small box from his jacket and opened it, allowing Lena to observe its contents. As Lena pretended to be mesmerized by the star-shaped medal, Bortnikov announced that she was now a Hero of the Russian Federation._

_Not long after, Lena walked out of the prison to her car, the medal now around her neck. In the midst of her trek, she stumbled a little and then fell on her knees, pulled by the sheer weight of her grief. The center of gravity for her grief was weighted in the medal, as if it was just too much for her to bear. There on the parking lot outside of the prison she broke into uncontrollable sobs and shed endless tears._

* * *

**Time: Present**

"Wouldn't they have just killed him then?" asked Stix who never thought for the life of her that she would ever have been interested in what happened to Krylov.

"They scheduled his execution at a later date. They wanted to kill him when they had captured the other leaders of the ultranationalists and brought them all together."

"Did they torture him after that too?" asked Frost.

"There was no need to," Lena replied. "Once the drugs wore off he learned it was all a trick and that Natasha was still dead, he became overcome with grief of his own. They occasionally beat him but no amount of physical pain could equal the torture they had already done to his mind. For a while he wouldn't eat or sleep. The government didn't want him dying prematurely so they force fed him through needles until he would start eating again." She paused again, needing to slow down.

As Frost looked at Lena she couldn't help but realize that her feelings and reactions were things she knew she would have felt if Luck had gone through the same thing as Krylov. She couldn't help but to see the similarities. "You can stop if you want, Lena. We won't force you to say anymore."

"No, it's alright. It makes me feel better to talk about it. I've never told anyone this and I feel like it's been a weight I've carried around with me," the FSB officer replied. "Opening up to you is freeing,"

After she received their nods to continue, Lena went on. "Anyway, the government had rounded up all of the ultranationalists and ended the war. After the events that had occurred prior to and during the war Russia was desperately in need of heroes and role models to look to as an example that Russia was still strong."

Despite her emotions, Lena allowed herself to smirk. "I intended to give them just that," she said, defiance now looming in her voice. "I was confident that if all of Russia knew Krylov's story they would see him as a hero, and that it was those fumbling idiots in Moscow who led us to ruin. The problem was that to tell his story I needed official documents about his past. The only place that had them was the main FSB headquarters."

Her smirk turned into a small smile at the memory. "It wasn't as hard as it could have been. The building had been hit with a rocket attack during the war so it had been ripped wide open and all security for the building was focused on the big gaping hole outside. I went to the front secure door where there was only one guard..."

* * *

_**Date: September 30, 2016**_

_**Time: 1000 hours, 10:00 A.M. (Moscow Time)**_

_**Location: ******__FSB Headquarters, __********__Lubyanka Square_, Russian Federation_********__  
_

_Lena walked down a narrow hallway. At the end of it was an armored door, a single armed guard, and a security camera just over said door. Immediately Lena's mind raced over the odds. Fooling the guard would be simple enough; she had practiced the skit several times in a mirror. The security camera would be riskier, as anyone could have been watching, but she would risk it all the same._

_The guard looked at her when she was close enough, and Lena couldn't help but to notice that he was looking her up and down._ _When she finally got close enough she pulled out her badge and said, "I'm on official business and require access."_

_The guard cocked an eyebrow. "I wasn't notified of any such business. I was never told of anyone even coming in today."_

_In the best stern authoritative voice she could muster Lena said, "Listen, you can let me through or you can explain to my boss why his documents were delivered late."_

_The guard paused for a second before thinking it over. "This is a trick," he said, causing ice to form in Lena's stomach. "You're FSB alright, but I doubt you're here on official business. You want to grab documents for your own reasons."_

_Lena began to panic, even as she kept a straight face. She certainly did not anticipate the guard being that perceptive. A perverse smirk appeared on the guard's face as he continued to look her up and down, examining every curve of her body frame. "I don't have a problem with that so long you make it worth my while."_

_Lena, retaining her poker face, arched an eyebrow. _"_What do you mean?" she then pointed at the camera. "Aren't we being filmed?"_

_The guard's smirk became even more perverse. "That camera is not on. None of them are since the security center was taken out in the rocket attack. What happens right here in this hallway is just going to be between you and me."_

_To this Lena smiled seductively before saying. "That is most fortunate." she exclaimed as she snuck her hand into the coat of her uniform._

_Before the guard realized what was happening, Lena pulled out a suppressed MR-444 pistol, which she aimed at his chest before pulling the trigger twice. The guard fell to the floor after both rounds hit. For good measure Lena put another round right between the man's eyes, sneering as she did. She then grabbed the access card off his waist and let herself into the archives._

* * *

**Time: Present**

"You got the documents?" asked Frost. In the back of Frost's mind she was a little shocked that this woman had gone to such great lengths to save Krylov. She was even willing to kill for him.

"I got everything I needed and more. I spent several days leaking them to every Russian blog and online public site that I could think of using a series of masked IP addresses and usernames. I attached an article that I wrote, calling Krylov a hero and merely a victim of circumstance."

Lena couldn't help but smile at her handiwork. "You see, Krylov is not an ultranationalist himself. He fought against the government because he thought what the world needed was for Russia to take a much harsher stance against the United States. That was something the ultranationalists promised."

"So did your story work?" asked Stix.

"It blew up in spades!" Lena exclaimed, this time actually happy at one of her memories. "Within a matter of days all of Russia knew who Krylov was and there were many asking for his release. He became a symbol of strength and his oppression at the hands of the government added to his legitimacy since many Russians could relate. On the other side, the government had already expended too much of its political capital during the war; they couldn't afford to put themselves at odds with the people any further. Krylov became someone they couldn't kill, but couldn't release either. He held too much clout and had already shown that he was willing to turn against the government. He became a political prisoner and that's why they sent him here."

Stix and Frost seemed kind of confused at first so Lena explained further. "They sent him here to die. Our foreign intelligence service caught wind of the situation developing in China and the South China Sea. There was no better way for a political prisoner to die than exiling him and having him perish fighting in a foreign conflict defending Russia's interests abroad. Krylov was intentionally sent here in advance with the hope that the ensuing conflict would kill him."

"Wait," Stix interrupted. "What do you mean by Russia's interests abroad? What interests does Russia have in this war?"

"China's problem is that it needs oil. They used to buy it from us, but Russia's oil industry was damaged during our civil war with the ultranationalists. Right now Russia is working really hard to rebuild its oil infrastructure, but if China somehow obtains that oil from some other means they would be much less reliant on us."

"I see," Frost said. "Russian oil needs customers."

"And Moscow needs no heroes," Lena replied. "That's why we're here."

"What about the other Russian pilots?" asked Stix.

"They're all political prisoners of the war. To prevent them all from leaving they have a small explosive surgically planted in their necks. The FSB can activate them with a satellite from anywhere in the world. The one exception is the maintenance crew, who are all paid contractors from the arms industry."

This time Lena sneered in disgust. "The Russian Air Force wasn't even willing to part with any of their top of the line aircraft currently in service. The Frogfoots we have are aging warplanes and were considered expendable by the Russian Air Force and the Foxhounds were simply taken from the reserves. Krylov's Berkut, or 'Firkin' as your side calls it, was one of the planes that had been used to test the advanced combat systems for the PAK-FA T-Fifty. This year the PAK-FA completed its development cycle and went into full production, so the Berkut was given to us instead of being sent into mothball storage. "

"What about you, Lena? Why are you here?"

To this Lena cheerfully smiled again. "It was more of a chance and a choice really."

* * *

_**Date: December 11, 2016**_

_**Time: 1200 hours, 12:00 P.M. (Moscow Time)**_

_**Location: Moscow, FSB Complex, Russian Federation**_

_Lena passed several hallways to make it to her new office in one of the FSB complexes in Moscow. For the first time in perhaps ages, she felt excitement within herself. Her plan had worked; Krylov was now practically untouchable by the government, and all of Russia was singing psalms of his tale. Even old Vladimir Ilyich would have been impressed with her work._

_As she was walking to her office, she passed by her new boss' workplace. The door was left open to a crack and she could hear the voice of her boss talking to a high ranking official from her government._

_The official said, "...and I need one of your officers to go on this little expedition and watch over the political prisoners, especially Krylov."_

_Her boss did not take that well, "With respect, sir, my officers have better things to do than babysit prisoners that are as good as dead!" he growled. "This is work for the Air Force, _not_ the FSB!"_

_"There is no debate in the matter," the official stated with finality. "The President himself approves of this."_

_Lena knew her boss couldn't argue that one; though the new President had just taken office in the wake of Chemezov's death not too long ago, his authority was not to be questioned. "This is a disgrace," the senior FSB officer protested. "A disgrace to my organization and a disgrace to my officers. Where am I even going to find an officer delusional enough to take such a stupid assignment seriously?"_

_At that, Lena took her cue and knocked on the door. As soon as her boss replied 'Enter', she did so. "Forgive my intrusion, gentlemen..." she stated. "...but I could hear both of you from the hallway."_

_The atmosphere in the room became even colder at that. "You know I do not approve of eavesdroppers, Lena..." her boss stated in warning._

Then do not leave your door open, idiot._ Lena thought but didn't say aloud. "If it's all the same, sir, I think I can solve this issue." she said, now gaining the interest of both men. "I would like to volunteer for this assignment."_

_The official looked at her with perplexion at that. "Why, may I ask?"_

_At that, Lena feigned concealed anger. "During the war, I was captured by Krylov and turned into his servant," she stated with as much coldness as she could muster. "I will not be satisfied until I see the bastard dead."_

_Her boss and the official continued looking at her for a moment, analyzing her words as well as recalling that she was the one who broke Krylov to begin with, and that Director Bortnikov himself favored her. After that moment passed, her boss shrugged to the official. "Take her."_

* * *

**Time: Present**

Frost checked her watch and saw that it was now time for her to leave and prep her Gripen. She looked over at Stix and could see that she was thinking the same thing. "Lena, me and Stix need to go, but we were very happy to listen to you."

Stix then said, "Hey, if you need anything, please let me know. We'll always be here for you even if it's just to talk."

Lena smiled at them both and said, "Thank you very much."

With that both pilots stood up and left to their business. At the same time the two Dark Horse pilots had started to see Lena and the Russians in an entirely different light.

As they left, Lena was no longer crying, but instead seemed to be in a much better state of mind. She was happy she had made two friends and no longer felt utterly lonely.

* * *

**RC: Just did a word count and this is the longest chapter I have ever written. Thank you those that reviewed! ****Knowing what people think of my work and how to improve myself is a big source of energy for me. ****Reviews provide more power to my writing engines and help motivate me to write! More reviews means the next chapter will be written sooner!**


	7. Sounds Fun

**RC: Sorry it took longer for me to update this time. My life was consumed by the Syria Crisis for a brief moment and it was all I could think about until it was over. **

**To Nguyen: Thank you again. I didn't realize that the MiG-21's range with an external fuel tank would allow it to reach to Spratlys. I also need to rework that into my math on the Chinese copied version, the J-7. Thank you again very much and I am really interested in hearing your opinion on my new chapter.**

_"Family isn't always a matter of blood. Sometimes, it's something we build."_

―Stacks, Pacific Rim: Tales from Year Zero

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN: **_"Sounds Fun"_**

_Frost was walking through a field of white powder. As she walked further down the field she realized that she was not wearing any military attire, but instead had her teenage civilian clothes, which included short jean shorts, sneakers, and a white shirt with a yellow jacket. She reached up to stroke her hair and saw that it was cut the same way she had it in her teenage years. The right side of her head was shaved entirely while the rest of her hair was grown long and put to her opposite side, just the same as the pop singer Cher Lloyd at the time whom she had idolized._

_As Frost walked through the white powder she looked up in the sky and saw the sun was high. As she looked around she saw that there was nothing to be seen except the white powder on the ground, which was piled up in mounds just like a desert. She reached down and grabbed a handful of the powder. It was then that she realized it wasn't necessarily powder she was walking through. Her eyes glazed over with a sense of disillusionment as she looked at the substance. She knew exactly what it was._

_Just then the mound of white powder she was standing on became incredibly unstable and started to twist in the form of a whirlpool that was sucking her down into it. Frost struggled all she could and immediately tried to push against the waves of powder drawing her in. A feeling of utter despair and hopeless took her over. Try as she might her struggles were useless. She fell into the whirlpool and was pulled down under to a dark place._

* * *

**Date: December 20, 2016**

**Time: 0330 hours, 3:30 A.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Frost woke up in her bed startled. She sat up and looked over at her alarm clock to find that she had woken up at approximately 0330, three and a half hours before the morning brief. She decided to try going back to sleep, but quickly found that sleep eluded her. After trying for an hour to be at rest she eventually gave up and decided that it would be better to just go to the gym on base and work out.

The ex-Royal Air Force pilot adorned her workout clothes, which consisted of a simple black T-shirt with "RAF" written on the back of it, black spandex pants, and white running shoes. She proceeded straight to the gym. When she entered she thought it would be empty at this hour. To her surprise there was another person in the gym that was just in the process of finishing up his own workout: Krylov.

The exiled pilot was wearing a traditional Telnyashka, a white tank top shirt with blue horizontal stripes that had long been the symbol of the Russian military. He also had on a simple pair of military-issue cargo pants and wore his heavy black boots. The British woman assumed that his Su-47 was down for maintenance after his ops earlier in the day and he had taken the opportunity to push some iron. As the sweat soaked through his shirt she could see the various tattoos and ugly scars that littered his body. His skin, filled with ink and covered in scar tissue, looked less like that of a human and more like that of an abused, monstrous creature.

At first, Frost could feel a strong sense of hatred and disgust jolt into her mind at the sight of him. However, she remembered that what the FSB had done to him was something she personally would not wish on anyone. She also remembered that she had been unaware of how he had lost his lover in Sudan until only recently, which was also something she would not wish on anyone. Aside from that, Frost knew that she and her comrades could find themselves having to trust him with their lives on future missions, a thought that put terror into all of their minds. In that moment her hatred relented and she decided instead to try reaching out to him. In truth, she thought the gesture was insane, just as she doubted she would establish even the most remote of relationships with him. Even so, it was still worth a try.

Krylov grabbed his water bottle and towel before he started walking towards the exit, which was right behind Frost. He saw her, but merely took a mental note of the fact that she was there and did not say anything as he walked right by her. Frost broke the silence. "Um… Krylov."

To this, Krylov stopped and turned partially toward her, not fully facing her but looking directly at her with his grayish-blue eyes.

"Listen," the British woman began to say, all the while fighting the knot in her stomach and looking at him with her own concern filled jade green eyes, "I forgive you for everything that you have done to me and my comrades and I would like to be able to trust you."

The Russian cocked an eyebrow as he looked at her. "What do they call you? 'Frost' is it?"

The British pilot nodded and prepared herself. "Yes."

"Well, Frost..." he began in bleak monotone. "I never asked for your forgiveness. And I am not sorry for anything."

Frost merely gave a small nod of her head in understanding. When Krylov saw that she had nothing more to say he turned towards the door and walked out.

When he was gone, Frost let out an exasperated breath, retaining her composure but still feeling as though she had been punched in the gut. She figured it would turn out like this, going by Krylov's personal history and everything that had happened between them up to this point. After all, this was the same man that had shot out her parachute from over her.

Even so, she could not believe anyone could be so cold.

* * *

**Time: 1200**

"The Switch starts now!" Duke shouted to everyone as they were sitting in the mess. The time was now 1200 and everyone was just sitting down to lunch. "I need the Super Hornet and Growler crews to scramble immediately! The Gripen pilots will receive a briefing for their own mission in the briefing room. The Russians are on their way back to land."

The Dark Horse Air Wing crew immediately shifted gears and did as they were ordered. Immediately, Luck, Mozart, Stix, and Duke rushed to the locker room to change into their gear. From there they scrambled over to their Super Hornets in the hangar. They quickly noticed that their Super Hornets each had a loadout that consisted of six AMRAAMs, two Sidwinders, two external fuel tanks, and the centerline IRST modified fuel tank. Each pilot climbed into their jet and went through the startup process.

As they did this Mozart got on the radio. "Duke, the situation must be urgent if we have to skip a briefing for this sortie. What's going on?" he asked.

Duke began to power up his engines and replied, "We're going to the southern Spratly Islands. The two main positions we're responsible for are Barque Canada Reef and Amboyna Cay. Barque Canada is a dual strip of high rocks eighteen miles long with two artificial islands that have military installations in the center. Amboyna Cay is a small island about thirty miles southwest of it. Both are owned by the Vietnamese. There is still some fighting on Amboyna Cay, but the Chinese decided to destroy the artificial islands on Barque Canada. They've immediately started building on top of it with a large barge that is loaded with medium range SAMs."

"We don't exactly have ordinance on our planes to take out those SAMs," Stix said over the radio.

"That's why the Growlers are coming with us. We're also going to meet four Singaporean Strike Eagles on the way there. The mission is simple: The Growlers jam the SAMs, the Strike Eagles take them out and help the Vietnamese ground forces take back Amboyna Cay Island. We provide air cover."

"Sounds fun," Mozart replied.

One by one, each of the Super Hornets moved forward and taxied to the runway. Duke continued to give them a quick brief as they took off. "There is a big naval engagement going on just north of the islands between the Chinese and Vietnamese navies. The Vietnamese ships couldn't afford to pull back from the area so they'll maintain a constant presence there. Our data-links won't match up with theirs so we've been advised to not get involved unless it's absolutely necessary and we can distinguish targets."

The Super Hornet pilots took off and could immediately see that the Growlers were in the process of taxiing onto the runway so they could take off right behind them. They all fell into formation with Duke and he led them to the southern islands.

* * *

Frost headed outside to the hangar after the briefing for her next mission. There in the hangar, she found her beautiful JAS-39E Gripen alongside John's. Her wingman had just finished starting up his JAS-39E, and the hangar was filled with the shrill roar of its singular F414 engine. As Frost climbed into the cockpit she shot John a glance as he was busily focused on the displays in his cockpit. From there, as she got to work warming up her Gripen, she got on the radio.

"John, this is Frost," she began, her voice now caring a commanding edge. "You'll be on my wing for most of these ops. I trust we won't have any problems."

John looked at her from his seat and she could see that he had a twisted smile on his face. "None whatsoever 'boss'," he replied simply.

With that response, Frost decided to take a deep breath and remain relaxed as best she could. If she had any one comfort, it was that the Chinese threatened John's life just as much as hers.

* * *

The four Super Hornets and two Growlers soon came within 50 miles of the Barque Canada Reef. As they scanned the area around them they saw that the sky above the reef had two layers of thick clouds, one at 15,000 feet and another less thick layer at 19,000 feet. While they cruised towards the area at 20,000 feet they saw that the sun was bright, the waters below were calm, and the tropical setting would have made the place seem like a nice spot to visit if not for the war. Here at 50 miles distance they were right at the edge of the SAM batteries' maximum effective range.

"This is Wolf One," Steel said as he used his radio callsign. "Jamming the SAMs in fifteen seconds."

The Growlers had the callsigns of Wolf One and Wolf Two. The Super Hornets had the radio callsigns Wasp One through Wasp Four.

"This is Wasp One," Duke said. "Tango Flight is about three-zero miles west of us and waiting for the SAMs to be jammed. They've already released JDAMs. Once the jamming starts they'll go for the enemy on Amboyna Cay."

The other Super Hornet pilots knew that Tango Flight consisted of four Strike Eagles from Singapore, each with the designation of Tango Twenty-One through Tango Twenty-Four. They were armed with JDAM long range glide bombs that had already been dropped from high altitude and were approaching the SAMs. The glide bombs were small so they could get closer without being detected, but at a certain range they would become seen on the enemy radar and if the bombs were to make it they would need to be supported by a jammer. Currently the leader of that Strike Eagle flight was in communication with Duke through an encrypted satellite data-link so that they could coordinate the attack and time it just right.

"Wolf Flight, jamming," Steel called out. The ALQ-99 jamming pods loaded on both Growlers immediately blasted a focused stream of jamming waves at Barque Canada Reef, blinding the SAM batteries.

"Tango's JDAMs will hit the target in six minutes," Duke said over the radio. "Time for us to get in closer."

The Super Hornets and Growlers made their way towards Amboyna Cay. As six minutes went by they closed the distance by several miles and could see the location of the SAM site on their RWR as it still had its radar active and was sending out emissions. Suddenly the radar went silent and the emissions stopped.

Luck turned on his IRST and slaved it to the location of the SAMs, which he could just barely catch a glimpse of under the clouds. He saw two barges that had large missiles installations on them. Both of the barges were on fire. Just then he could see one of the missile warheads detonate as a result of fires spread. The explosion set off a chain reaction that took out other missiles with it and ripped holes in the center of the barges, forcing them to sink down below.

"Wasp Two here, I've got a visual with my IRST. Good kills. They're gone," he confirmed.

It was then that they heard a man over the radio with an accent native to Singapore, "This is Tango Two-One, I'm switching objective to Amboyna Cay," he announced.

"This is Wasp One, we'll watch for bandits," Duke replied.

Duke turned on his radar and scanned 100 miles out beyond the islands. His scan found the ships of the Vietnam People's Navy and the People's Liberation Army Navy engaged in a heavy skirmish that covered an area 40 miles wide and only 29 miles north of Amboyna Cay. He could even see ship-to-ship missiles racing across the sky as each side dealt blow after blow to each other. High above the naval battle was a cloud of UAVs that was obscuring the combat area. These UAVs left a patch of distortion on the radar and it was then that Duke realized the UAVs had been outfitted with their own small jamming kits. Also at that altitude were at least 26 F-16s from Thailand and Singapore that had teamed up to provide air cover for the Vietnamese Navy and had run into heavy resistance from a greater force of J-10 Dragons.

"This could get hairy," Duke said as he watched the fight on his radar. "If any contingent of that force realizes that we're taking the island they might come after us."

As the Super Hornets got closer to Amboyna Cay they could see several explosions erupt on the small patch of land. Luck used his IRST to focus on the Island and saw that there were Vietnamese soldiers at the edge of the island, holed up in a pile of rubble that used to be one of the towns. They were surrounded by a larger force of Chinese infantry and were fighting for their lives.

Luck watched as suddenly a 250 lb SDB bomb fell down and slammed into a part of the Chinese force. He zoomed out on his IRST and could see the F-15SG Strike Eagles providing close air support and dropping bombs into enemy forces to give the outnumbered Vietnamese a chance of survival.

Just then Duke's worst fears were confirmed. He watched on radar as a portion of the drone cloud broke off and started heading toward the island. "Wasp One to Wolf One, we got drones incoming," Duke called out.

"Wolf One, jamming," Steel replied as he immediately blasted jamming waves at the incoming drone force, making them lose their connections and turn around to head back to their landing strips in China. However, as the drones turned back Duke could see that several radar contacts were not turning around. These contacts were manned aircraft.

Luck slaved his IRST at them and could see that they were J-10 Dragons. They could see eight Dragons racing toward them from 39 miles away and closing the distance. "Wasp Two to all, we've got eight bandits. Dragons closing in from the north at angle one-eight, mach one-point-five."

The fact that the Growlers were still jamming that area, meant that the J-10s were slightly blind because they were flying through jamming waves, but this wouldn't last long especially as the distance decreased.

"Wasp One, Wasp Two, let's take 'em out," Duke said as he immediately locked onto the first four, "Wasp flight engaging. Wasp One, Fox Three, Fox Three," he said he fired four AMRAAMs at the first flight.

"Wasp Two, Fox Three," Luck called out as he locked onto the second flight and fired four AMRAAMs of his own.

They watched as the eight AMRAAMs streaked off into the horizon and started to close the distance in seconds. As Luck watched through his IRST he swore he could have seen several small objects drop from the wings of the J-10s. Suddenly the contacts on the radar doubled, causing great alarm to go through the minds of the allied pilots.

It was then that Luck decided to slave his IRST to focus on these tiny objects. He watch as wings unfolded from them and they began to move about on their own. Luck immediately realized that they were copied versions of MALD (miniature-air-launched-drone). They were tiny drones with a direct jam-resistant connection to their launch aircraft and were sending out signals that made them look like J-10s on radar. Duke had his IRST on and could see the same thing. What was even worse was that each Chinese fighter had dropped two drones from under their wings, tripling the targets on the radar. All of them looked the same, making the drones indistinguishable from the real deal fighters.

The Dark Horse pilots watched as their CAG's response to the changed situation was classic. "Wasp Flight, Wolf Flight, network all radars, kill everything."

They immediately networked their radars and their remaining AMRAAM missiles. Each EA-18G Growler had two AMRAAMs loaded as well so they were included in the network. With the targets now at 25 miles away their networked radars and AIM-120s were each directed at a different individual target so as not to waste two missiles on the same target.

All the Dark Horse pilots released multiple calls of "Fox Three! Fox Three!" as they unleashed the full load of their AMRAAMs at the enemy targets.

Streak after streak of missile shot off into the horizon and went directly for its own individual target. The J-10s released chaff and flare in an attempt to confuse the AMRAAMs. Within a matter of seconds the Dark Horses watched as several small flashes from explosions littered the sky in the distance. Each hot orange flash was the detonation of a 40 pound explosive warhead carried by the AMRAAM missile. There were several hits and a few misses as some of the AMRAAMs flew through the formation without hitting anything. Since all of the targets looked like J-10s on the radar it was difficult to get a good damage assessment of their shots. The debris left of both destroyed aircraft and destroyed drones was falling out of the sky and creating an even larger cluster on the radar that made it difficult to see.

The enemy force was now 15 miles away and closing to within visual range. Almost instinctively they all hit the jettison button to dump their external fuel tanks and allow them freedom to maneuver should they need to engage in a dogfight.

Luck immediately began looking through the contacts with his IRST, manually jumping from heat signature to heat signature to see if he could spot any fighters. Each time he looked at them he saw drone after drone. Just then he finally spotted a J-10 falling out of control, its wing was taken off and the engine in flames. Luck could see the canopy burst open as the pilot ejected.

Suddenly missile warning alarms went off their cockpits. They were receiving an enemy radar lock from ahead, meaning that the J-10s had closed the distance to a point where the jammers were no longer effective at blinding them. Missile launch warning alarms soon followed as their RWR detected several missiles coming at them from head on. The Growler pilots quickly went into hard turns away from the area and kicked in full afterburner to get away while releasing chaff and flare. The Super Hornet pilots also punched out chaff and flare and broke formation in evasive maneuvers as the missiles closed in.

Luck watched as one missile shot right by him and missed. Mozart went into a hard right turn that took him low and away from the formation. Duke went hard left before pulling into a split-S that caused the missile to lose its lock.

Just then he looked down at Stix, who had followed Mozart, and was able to see the missile fly close behind her before detonating and releasing a blast of heat and shrapnel. The blast grazed her engine nozzles and rear tail fins, ripping them up. The explosion pushed Stix tail away with tremendous force and caused her to go into a rapidly descending hard spin. Stix could feel her head slam against the side of her cockpit with immense G-forces as the computers fought to get control for her. She could have swore heard a crunching sound right next her head and she blacked out for a second before she realized she was in the spin. Panic began to eat at the edges of her mind as she hoped she could get out of it to fight back.

Duke looked forward and saw that there were five J-10s in full afterburner and closing the distance to a merge. As the Dragons flew over them Luck watched as one of the J-10s went into a dive after Stix to finish her off. Mozart immediately went to intercept it and defend his wingman. This left Duke and Luck alone with four J-10s higher up. Both Super Hornet pilots selected their AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles.

When the J-10s merged they were moving extremely fast at 500 knots. Their high speed took them well past Luck and Duke.

"Luck, I'll go vertical, you lean them," Duke shouted on the radio before he went into full afterburner and pulled into a climb.

Luck turned into the enemy and looked up in his cockpit just in time to see two J-10s pull into a climb while the other two went into a hard turn against him. At that moment Luck realized that the Chinese bandits were pulling the same maneuver that he and Duke were trying to use against them.

Fortunately, the Super Hornet had the AIM-9X Sidewinder missile with a helmet-directed sight. Luck merely had to look at them from his canopy to acquire a lock on one of the enemy fighters. He received a tone and a reticle appeared on his helmet mounted display. "Fox Two!" he called out as he fired his AIM-9X. The heat-seeking missile's engine ignited and sent it off his wingtip and tearing into the sky towards the J-10.

The pilot of the Dragon punched out flares, but the missile didn't go for them. It slammed into the rear fuselage and detonated, ripping the back of the aircraft apart. The Chinese warplane became engulfed in flames and spiraled out of control. The pilot pulled the ejection handles and he was released from the wreck.

With the first fighter down Luck called out, "Splash one!" as he crossed paths with the second J-10 and immediately went into a flat scissors with it. It was then that he looked up and noticed that Duke had rolled on his side right before he crossed with the two higher J-10s. This move made it seem like he was going to engage in a flat scissors with them. When they overshot the J-10s went into a hard turn with the expectation that the enemy CAG would turn into them. Instead, Duke suddenly pulled into a hard dive after the J-10 that was turning against Luck. "Fox Two!" he called out as he fired a Sidewinder.

Luck could see the Sidewinder streak off Duke's wingtip and slam into the J-10 that he was in the flat scissors with. A bright hot flash of light appeared at the point of impact. The right wing flew off wildly and the Dragon went into an uncontrollable spiral. Now that Luck was freed from the scissor he immediately pulled up to cover Duke's tail as the remaining two Dragons pulled into a dive after Duke.

As Luck was pulling into his climb it took him straight toward the other Super Hornet. He and his CAG passed each other nearly head on as Duke's dive took him to a lower altitude than his subordinate. This move was completely instinctive to both of them and allowed both American pilots to cover each other's backs. With his second AIM-9X already selected, Luck locked onto one of the two J-10s diving after Duke. He fired the moment he heard a tone. At a nearly head on angle the entire flight path of the missile lasted less than a second before it reached its target. His Sidewinder missile went directly into the intake of the J-10 before detonating inside the aircraft. The Dragon's fuselage was immediately torn in half, with the front of the warplane spiraling out of control and the rear engulfed entirely in flames. "Splash Two!"

As Luck continued his climb he shot above the wreckage and the remaining J-10, which was still pursing Duke in a high speed dive. The moment Luck went over the enemy he selected his gun and nosed over into a dive of his own to chase after the Chinese adversary.

The Dragon fired a heat-seeking PL-8 missile at Duke, who released flares in response and then pulled a maneuver that Luck thought was impossible. Within the span of three seconds, Duke switched off the angle of attack and G-load limiters that were built into his computers, snapped the nose of his Super Hornet up toward the horizon so that he was now falling instead of diving, went idle on the throttle, and then jerked the exact finite amount of rudder to slowly steer his nose around without losing control of the plane. The heat-seeking missile went for the flares since Duke's engine signature was lowered from the decreased power output. It detonated harmlessly away from him. With the broad underside of Duke's aircraft taking the air head on as it fell gracefully he was quickly slowed down, resulting in the J-10 coming right alongside him as both warplanes were rapidly decreasing in altitude. As Duke slowly steered his nose around he selected his gun and brought its firing line right into the Chinese fighter's flight path. He pulled the trigger and released a clean stream of precise 20mm rounds that ripped into his opponent's fuselage.

The Dragon buckled under the multiple impacts of the semi-armor-piercing-high-explosive-incendiary rounds. Each round released a high-heat explosion with a dense armor piercing tungsten core that punched a hole straight through the entire body of the warbird and came ripping out the other side. Shrapnel ate away at the J-10 and struck the pilot, killing him at his controls. The J-10 began to disintegrate in flames as its dive turned into an out of control tumble.

Duke increased throttle and adjusted his flight path to regain his lost energy. "Splash Two."

Luck decided to not wait for Duke to recover and instead immediately went back to check on Mozart and Stix. "Wasp Three, this is Two, where are you?"

Much to his relief the voice of his Canadian friend replied back, "This is Wasp Three, I'm at angle two a few miles north of you. I killed the bandit that went after Wasp Four, but we've got a problem…"

Upon hearing those words Luck's gut sank. He feared the worst had happened to Stix and a deep dark felling of despair began to threateningly scratch the surface of his mind. He went full afterburner and pulled into a hard dive towards the north. He was relieved to find two Super Hornets at low altitude, but noticed that one of them was smoking.

Mozart then said, "Four's damaged and she's leaking fuel."

Luck immediately went to 2,000 feet and joined up in formation right next to them. He noticed that Stix had her right engine shut off because of the damage. The remaining engine was less damaged but was leaving a trail of smoke behind. There was a stream of fluids leaking out from the underside of the Super Hornet. "Wasp Four, this is Two, what's your status?"

When Stix got back on the radio she sounded somewhat weak and this worried her wingmates. "Two, Four here, I'm losing fuel pretty fast. I don't know if I can make it back to base. My head really hurts for some reason."

Luck decided to move a little closer to her Super Hornet to look at Stix directly. He could see that the right side of her helmet had been cracked, likely from receiving a heavy hit. There was a small stream of blood he could see slipping down her neck and into her flight suit.

Duke suddenly appeared above them and fell into formation in front of the group, assuming the lead position. "I just talked to Tango Flight. They've completely decimated the Chinese forces on the Island and the Vietnamese are almost done taking it over. Mission's complete. We'll RTB and see what the situation is from here."

The CAG then turned course for their home air base. As he did this he said, "I want Four in the number two spot." Meaning he wanted Stix to be on his wing instead of Luck. This position meant that Luck and Mozart would be behind her in the number three and four spots of the formation. It would make it easier for them to monitor her for any new problems that might occur as they flew back.

Each of the Super Hornet pilots felt a sense of accomplishment at the success of the mission but they were all extremely worried for Stix, either that her aircraft would breakdown in mid-flight or that she would simply run out of fuel before they could make it back. With high hopes they climbed to cruising altitude and held a steady flight path to Palawan Air Base.

* * *

**RC: Please let me know if there was any part of the fight that was difficult to understand and I will go back and try to reword it so that it is easier for you all. I am really interested in your opinions. As always, mores reviews means a sooner update!**


	8. Spook on the Prowl

**To Hung: Don't worry. I have everything you mentioned factored in. In fact, the eight J-10s that the Super Hornets killed were in fact the said support, after of course the air defense SAM shield. I haven't revealed this yet, but since you're keen enough to see it already the Thai and Singaporean F-16s were relying on aerial refueling with tankers that were loitering in Vietnamese airspace. I'm on top of the big picture, trust me. Again, I thank you for your inputs and would like to hear more from you. Also, it would be much easier to respond to you if you made a fanfiction account. That way I could send you personal messages and communicate better with you. Anyway, thanks and I hope you enjoy my new chapter. Looking forward to hearing more of your thoughts!**

_"Never hold resentments for the person who tells you what you need to hear; count them among your truest, most caring, and valuable friends."_

― Mike Norton, _Just Another War Story_

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT: **_"Spook on the Prowl"_**

**Date: December 20, 2016**

**Time: 1509 hours, 3:09 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

Once the Super Hornets and the Growlers entered friendly airspace again, Duke contacted the control tower and informed them that a wounded bird was coming in. Immediately responding, emergency services were quickly brought out and the runway was hastily cleared of all traffic. An ambulance and two fire engines drove out next to the runway to await the arrival of the damaged Super Hornet.

Stix then fell out of formation and made an approach toward the air base. As she was descending toward the runway her fuel indicator reached empty and she went into a glide. Fortunately she had already traveled the needed distance so that her glide would reach the airstrip. Her landing gear pounded the runway and she began to press on the brakes. Within a matter of moments her warplane began to slow down until it finally came to a halt.

The fire engines pulled up on either side of the damaged Super Hornet and began to spray down the bird with water to safeguard against any fire that might break out. When they were finished Stix opened the canopy and lifted her helmet off. As she did this she examined the inside of the helmet and saw that there was blood smeared on the right side. The helmet was made to break upon impact so as to lessen the damage done to the wearer and a huge crack on the right indicated that the helmet had stayed true to its design.

The wounded aviator stepped out of her plane and opened the built-in ladder on her jet. As she did so, the ambulance drove right next to her warplane, with the paramedics immediately stepping out and running to her. At she climbed down the latter, Stix didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. However, when her feet touched the ground she suddenly felt dizzy and fell down on one knee. As she stared at the ground she watched as droplets of blood raced down to her chin and fell to the concrete underneath her. One of the paramedics told her to lay down but Stix refused, constantly insisting that she was fine.

Before she knew it they had brought a stretcher out and were forcefully directing her to lay on it. She eventually complied and they rushed her to medical.

The rest of the Super Hornet and Grolwer pilots landed shortly after. When they climbed out of their planes the only thing that Luck and Mozart could think about was going to see Stix. It was normally procedure for them to have to do a debrief of the mission though, but both pilots wanted to skip the debrief. Duke on the other hand had different thoughts on his mind. When he got out of his Super Hornet he immediately said, "Mozart, Luck, I want you to go check on Stix. We have a major problem on our hands that I need to attend to immediately."

Mozart and Luck were curious as to what would make Duke, who was seemingly obsessed with procedure, cancel the debrief. "What's going on, Duke?" asked Luck.

Duke looked back banefully. "How many bandits did we kill?"

"Eight."

"And how many missiles did we fire?"

Luck did the math in his head and his eyes widened as he came to the solution. "Thirty one."

"I need to check our arsenal and order more missiles before we suffer a shortage. Right now it looks like we'll run out of ammunition killing drones before we get around to their fighters. We could have a serious shortage within the span of a few days and I need to mitigate that," he responded, before turning around. "Go make sure Stix is alright."

With that, Duke then made a bee-line for the HQ building, which housed the command post for the unofficial US armed units in the region.

With their CAG gone Mozart and Luck headed over to medical. When they walked into medical they were directed to the room that Stix was being held in. They opened the door and found Stix sitting on a table with the flight surgeon of the air wing examining her. He had a small flashlight and was aiming it in her eyes. The flight surgeon then invited them to come in. When the two pilots walked in to meet their comrade they saw that one of her eye pupils was dilated and the other pupil was contracted.

"How is she, Doc?" asked Mozart.

The flight surgeon replied, "She's got a bad concussion, but nothing life threatening. I'll have to ground her for a few days."

"I'm fine," Stix responded, still sounding somewhat weak. "Just give me a cold pack and I'll be good to go."

"No, you need to rest for one week. I'm grounding you," the flight surgeon replied.

It was then that Mozart and Luck could see Stix become furious. She raised her voice and said angrily, "I said I'm fine! I don't need to be grounded! The only thing I need is to get back out there!"

Her sudden outburst caused everyone in the room to be surprised. Luck and Mozart in particular couldn't believe that she was putting up such resistance to being grounded. If the flight surgeon said she wasn't fit to fly then the best and most logical thing for her to do was to not fly.

"Stix, we can manage," Luck said. "You just rest up."

"I said I'm fine," the angry pilot replied back.

"No, you're obviously not," Mozart stated as if it were a matter of fact. "You're emotionally upset and you're arguing with your friends to put yourself in a dangerous situation."

Stix then looked directly at Mozart. Her infuriated eyes met that of the Canadian's and held a glare for a moment before relenting. She sighed in defeat and slowly laid down on the table. She crossed her arms and pouted, but eventually came to the conclusion that Mozart was right. "Just be sure to save some for me."

With that settled and the two healthy pilots in the room relieved that their wingmate was not mortally wounded, they decided to leave and find out the tactical situation from the CCIC. As they were walking out Mozart stole a worried glance at his injured wingman. He certainly hoped she would be fine. When they came out of medical they suddenly saw Frost walking in, also wearing full flight gear and fresh from her own mission. "How is she?" the Englishwoman asked.

"She's fine," replied Mozart. "It's just a concussion. She's quite angry about being grounded for a week though."

"Oh, thank God." She then walked up to Luck and reached up to grab his vest. She clenched it for a moment and looked directly into his eyes. "You're alright?"

Luck understood that Frost probably heard someone was injured without knowing who it was until she landed and must have been worried that it was him. She also probably wanted to show a more affectionate display of her concern like a hug or a kiss, but was restraining herself due to the professional environment they were in. Luck was also restraining himself as well. He smiled at her and replied, "I'm fine, Sophie. We'll head to C-C-I-C and meet back with you after our debrief."

"Sure thing," Frost responded sharply. The aviators separated from there.

* * *

Frost walked into the medical building to find the flight surgeon wrapping bandages around Stix' head. The wounded warrior had a scowl on her face, the kind that indicated something far more intense beneath the surface. As Frost approached her friend she said, "So I heard you were angry about being grounded."

Stix looked over at her close friend and her scowl eased upon seeing her.

"Our air wing is full of the best pilots in the region. I'm sure we can hold the fort."

"That's not the only thing that's bothering me," Stix responded solemnly.

"What else is on your mind?"

The Chinese-American paused for a moment in memory before looking Frost in the eyes and answering, "Let's just say that fighting the so-called People's Liberation Army..." she spat out the title as if it were a toxin. "...is something I've wanted to do my entire life."

The British woman then sat down on the edge of the table next to her and said, "I see. May I ask why?"

Stix minutely shook her head, just enough to send the message across without obstructing the flight surgeon. "I'd rather not talk about it," she replied. Just then the flight surgeon was done adding the bandages and made the final cut.

Frost merely nodded her head. She wasn't going to ask for personal history her friend wasn't ready to give. She grabbed her comrade's hand to comfort her and said, "Well, if you ever want to talk about it I will always be here for you."

"Thanks, Frost." Stix grabbed back at Frost's hand. "You're like the sister I never had."

Frost smiled back. In an effort to cheer her up she said, "Rumor has it that our tech guys will find a way to network Russian and Western data links within the week," she explained, her smile taking a near sardonic tone as she did. "So look on the bright side: at least you won't be flying with Krylov any time soon."

This caused Stix to smile briefly.

* * *

Luck and Mozart walked into the CCIC and there they found the various communications officers commanding and controlling the war effort. Duke was in the center of the room, but what they didn't expect to see was who he was talking to. The person that was conversing with Duke was someone that no pilot or person in the military ever wanted to see in their entire life: a man with a slick black suit and an ear piece that may or may not be working directly for the CIA. There was a distinct cleanliness and character to the suit, elements that were only noticeable to those who had been in the service long enough to know how to differentiate them from any other black suit. Both Luck and Mozart could differentiate and knew that they had spotted a spook.

Out of instinct they froze at the sight of him. The supposed Company man was deep in conversation with Duke and had not noticed the two pilots enter the room. Luck could feel Mozart tap his shoulder, to which he looked over at his friend and found that he was pointing behind them towards the door with his thumb. Luck nodded in response and they silently walked back out of the room.

As they were leaving Luck said, "Given the scale of this war I knew spooks would show up sooner or later, but they still creep me out."

"Me too," Mozart responded.

As they left Duke's eyes stole a glance at the door they exited from. He then turned his attention back to the operative before him. "If the CIA sent you then my air wing is at your disposal for this mission," he stated to the man in the suit.

The spook nodded in acceptance of that. "That's good, but I don't need your whole air wing. I just need two pilots, and I need them right now."

The CAG already had a sinking feeling about that. "It'll be me and one other pilot of my choosing," he replied, attempting to head the agent off quickly and quietly.

The operative chuckled. "Very noble of you to volunteer yourself, Commander, but you have a war to fight and an air wing to command," he stated in turn, an almost diabolical smirk crossing his lips. "No, Langley has already decided which pair to take, and they are the two most experienced pilots in this theater."

Duke inhaled and exhaled slowly as he knew exactly who those two pilots were.

The CIA operative then said, "Specifically, we're taking Tony Richardson and Sergei Krylov."

* * *

Since the briefing was apparently delayed and they did not dare go back into the CCIC with the spook in there, Luck and Mozart decided to fill out a report of the battle themselves in the briefing room, which was standard procedure for every flight. As they quietly did this Luck recounted Duke's decision-making process and realized something. "Duke is a better CAG than I'll ever be," he said in reflection.

Mozart looked at his wingman as he analyzed Duke's leadership skills objectively from his own point of view. The CAG was a skilled tactician and his decision making was flawless. He kept the big picture of the war in mind and knew that the missile shortage would be a problem. They also thought about the first mission when the conflict began. When it came down to it, Duke's decisions had been the right move every time and to back it all up he was an extremely impressive pilot.

"He may be an asshole, but he's an asshole I'd trust with my life," Mozart stated in agreement.

Just then another pilot walked into the briefing room with a combat flight report form of his own and sat down in a seat nearby to write it. They recognized him as John.

"Hey there, John," Luck greeted.

John did not even look at him but responded in a very nonchalant manner, "Hello."

Though their interactions had been limited, Luck had made it an important issue to try to establish a good friendship with John, as he knew this Englishman was going to be covering Frost's back on their sorties. "How'd you and Frost do?"

"We fired every missile we took off with and only scored three kills. I had to get the last one with my gun," he said without even bothering to look up from his report form.

"You must be a pretty good dogfighter to have managed that."

"Of course I am," he replied flatly. "I am, after all, a member of Her Majesty's Air Force."

Mozart then asked, "Did you run into trouble on the way back?"

John looked at the Canadian and responded more pleasantly, "A few ships fired at us, but we went out of range before their missiles could close the distance. You?"

Luck responded smugly, "Just had to fight some Dragons outnumbered two-to-one odds."

"Don't be so smug, yank," John replied harshly as his eyes darted to Luck with a look that was borderline hostile. "Your wingman got so wounded she's grounded, right? Sounds to me like your sortie did not go so smoothly."

To this Mozart froze and Luck began to get defensive. They were both surprised at the less than polite response from John.

"We accomplished the mission and the island was taken back. That's what's important. And trust me, Stix matters a lot more to me than I think you understand," the American fired back as he put his pen down, eyes intensely locked with that of the British man.

Mozart watched as the level of hostility in the room suddenly kicked up a notch. He decided he had to find a way to calm things down. "So, Luck, you and I skipped lunch right before the mission. I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat," the Canadian proposed and stood up from his seat.

Luck and John continued to have their eyes locked for a second or two before Luck decided that his wingman was probably taking a smarter approach to this situation and stood up himself. "I just finished my report anyway."

Upon seeing Luck stand up John slowly began to smile, but even the two pilots before him could feel that the smile was forced. "Sorry, mate," John said, "Combat stress must be getting to me. Take care now."

"You too," Luck responded as he and Mozart walked towards the door. As they left Luck quietly began to wonder why John seemed to get along with every pilot in the air wing except him. It was like John just saw him and immediately decided he was an enemy of some sort.

As they exited the room Mozart stole a glance back at John and could see that he was watching them leave. His eyes were specifically on Luck's back and his face betrayed a mixture of anger, envy, and jealousy. Mozart decided to dismiss it for now and hoped that the Englishman's stress level would wind down in the future.

* * *

Frost walked out of medical and suddenly saw Duke approach her with his trademark serious expression. "Frost, have you seen Luck or Krylov? It's urgent," he asked.

The Englishwoman shrugged and replied, "I thought Luck was going to see you. Krylov and the other Russians disappeared since the switch occurred. I haven't a clue as to how they spend their time off. I could go talk to Lena and find out where they went."

"Who's Lena?" asked Duke.

"Oh, she's their FSB handler. I'm sure she's still on the base."

Just then Frost looked behind Duke and could see said FSB officer rushing somewhere in a hurry. "That's her right there," she said as she pointed toward the Ukrainian woman. Duke turned around and spotted Lena. "Hold on a sec, Duke," Frost said as she ran after her. When the ex-RAF pilot approached her she reached for her shoulder and said, "Lena, could I ask you something?"

Lena looked at her and Frost could not help but to notice a hint of worry on her face. "Follow me," the FSB officer said. As Frost followed her Lena said, "It's all my fault."

"What's all your fault?" Frost asked. Just then she saw where Lena was going. Lena was heading right to the main gate of the base. There at the main gate were several police cars with their red and blue lights flashing. Several Filipino policemen were standing at the gate with all of the Russian aviators in hand cuffs right outside, including Krylov.

This puzzled the British pilot. When they reached the gate Lena began to have a frantic conversation in English with the head Filipino police officer. She repeatedly apologized to him and promised that this "incident" would never happen again. After a short while the Filipino police removed the hand cuffs from the Russian aviators and let them walk back on the base. Frost noticed that both Krylov and Vladimir each had a large bottle of vodka, neither of them having ever been opened. Upon entering back onto the base they held the bottles under arm very closely.

"Lena, what happened?" asked the British pilot as they walked back.

Lena seemed relieved somewhat, but the worry on her face was still there. Frost had become a trusted friend whom she did not mind opening up to though and Lena felt comfortable enough to let her guard down around her. "Well, when the switch in forces occurred the Russians didn't have anything else to do and they got bored…" As Frost listened to the story she could not help but to laugh.

The Russian government had exiled the prisoner aviators to the Dark Horses with no money to spend nor alcohol to drink, a cruel form of punishment and humiliation for citizens of Russia. Of course, the maintainers of their aircraft were paid contractors, but the FSB had forbidden them from giving any money to the pilots. Although Lena had indicated that she was willing to try to sneak some of her money to the pilots to share they refused and said that there was a possibility one of the contractors could be a sleeper agent for the FSB that might report back the moment something was noticeable. When it came down to it, Lena needed to maintain her cover as someone who generally hated them in front of the contractors. Krylov also did not want Lena's cover blown since she was probably his only trustworthy asset he had left. This meant that whatever the Russian aviators wanted they would need to acquire themselves.

The Russians had landed back on the base once the western armed forces had switched to take over the fighting. After hanging around for an hour or so on the base with nothing to do they quickly became bored and started searching for alcohol. Palawan Air Base had no facilities that served alcoholic beverages so Krylov decided to take Vladimir with him and go off the base to a nearby town searching for a liquor store. They had chosen to take some of their flight gear with them, including handheld radios so that they could use them like cell phones to notify the other Russian pilots when they found a place with alcohol that was attainable. Krylov and Vladimir quickly discovered a liquor store that was not far from the base and was managed by an old Filipino man and his daughter.

The Filipino store owners saw Krylov and each took a cautious step back behind the counter. They were immediately intimidated by him since he was a tall, muscular Russian wearing military gear. The Russian ace and his wingman approached the counter, not saying a word as they both scanned the selection of drinks available. They came across a series of large bottles that were labeled in Russian and found them to be genuine high quality vodka from their Motherland. Vladimir stood behind his leader and waited to see how he would proceed. Krylov pointed towards the bottle. The Filipino store owner hesitantly grabbed it and held it in hand. "This will be fifty nine dollars," he said in English.

Krylov had no money so he resorted to a practice that was considered common in war torn areas and in poor places inside Russia. He pulled out his MR-444 pistol and placed it on the counter. For a moment the Filipino store owner froze with fear and stared at the pistol with uncertainty, thinking that the gesture was a veiled threat. His daughter immediately picked up a phone and dialed the police. A few seconds went by and when Krylov saw that the store owner was not giving the bottle to him he picked up the pistol and proceeded to advertise it.

"This is a good pistol," he said in English. "It is made of high quality steel in a factory back in my home country. Holds fifteen rounds of nine millimeter ammunition in each magazine." He then pulled out the magazine to present it to him so that the store owner could see. Krylov also reached into his flight gear and pulled out two more magazines. "I will even toss these two in for the vodka."

By then the store owner's daughter was already talking to the police in her native tongue. Neither Vladimir nor Krylov understood the Filipino language so they had no idea who she was talking to or what she was saying.

The elderly store owner eventually decided that the only thing he wanted at that moment was for the Russians to leave. He quickly handed Krylov the vodka. When Vladimir saw that Krylov's method had worked he immediately pulled out his own MR-444 pistol and spare magazines before placing them on the counter. The store owner quickly handed him another bottle of vodka and then shooed them out.

Vladimir happily radioed back to his comrades on how they had obtained the vodka and explained in careful detail what they needed to do to get some of their own. Within a matter of minutes the Russian aviators were rushing out to town with their own pistols ready to trade them for alcohol at the liquor store. When they showed up to the store they found several Filipino police cars waiting for them and were all arrested under charges of illegal arms dealing. The Filipino police had a description of Krylov and Vladimir given to them by the store owner's daughter and they were quickly tracked down and arrested as well. Once they learned that they were pilots of the Dark Horses the Philippine government quickly ordered that they be returned to Palawan Air Base and released.

It was then that the Philippine government had agreed to do something that Frost thought was extremely smart. They agreed to send over an official Philippine government arms procurement officer to buy any weapons that the Russians had on them. This was done primarily because it took the weapons away from the Russians, preventing them from trying to use them as currency elsewhere, and it also provided them with money to spend. The officer was scheduled to arrive within a few days, leaving the two bottles Krylov and Vladimir had acquired to be their only supply until then.

Frost thought it was all very funny at first, but then she realized just how poor the Russian pilots were and that they really were exiles with nothing of their own. It made her sad for them and at the same time thankful for the excessively high paycheck she got from being a pilot of the Dark Horses. The British pilot then decided to go find Duke and notify him that Krylov was back.

Within less than an hour Duke had found Krylov and Luck and asked them to enter the CCIC. Upon entering the room Luck did not know who he was more concerned about: Krylov or the spook.

The CIA operative then said in a voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, "I require the services of both of you."

* * *

**RC: Hope you guys enjoyed that! More reviews will bring a sooner update!**


	9. No Trust

**To Luke: I'll explain Indonesia later when I get to them. Thanks for the review!**

_"Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none." _

― William Shakespeare, _All's Well That Ends Well_

* * *

CHAPTER NINE: **_"No Trust"_**

**Date: December 20, 2016**

**Time: 1845 hours, 6:45 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

"I require the services of both of you," said the CIA operative.

Luck and Krylov stood still, with Luck looking at his CAG, who was also in the room. Duke's facial expression was serious as always, but there was something hidden behind his gaze; a great dislike for whatever situation the CIA spook was about to say. Luck gulped at that; if Duke didn't like it, then it definitely couldn't be good.

On the other hand, whereas Luck had no say in the matter, Krylov had a much different point of view. "Give me one reason why I should help you," said the Russian as he crossed his arms.

Despite Krylov's staunch manner, the CIA agent seem undeterred. "Well, Mr. Krylov, you have something we want. We would like your expertise. In exchange for giving us your expertise we will surgically remove the small explosive in your neck."

Krylov cocked an eyebrow for a moment before responding, "You must think I am some kind of fool to trust that you would keep your word. Besides, the explosive is rigged against tampering. If you mess with it at all it will detonate."

The CIA operative responded with a smirk, "I thought you would be skeptical." He then pulled an iPad out of his suit and held it so Krylov could see that there was a video ready to play on the screen. The spook pressed the play button and it started to show a recording of surgery being done. As Krylov watched he realized that the individual having the surgery done to him had tattoos that identified him as a member of the Russian mafia. "The explosive in your neck is something we have encountered before on other people from your country that we have struck deals with in exchange for their services. We've also learned how to successfully remove it."

As the video played it showed the surgeons were not only able to disarm the small device while it was inside the human body, but they were also able to extract it afterwards. The surgeons went into the man's neck with a set of tweezers and pulled out the small blood soaked explosive assembly. Krylov immediately recognized the device as the exact same one the FSB had placed in him. The CIA operative then shut off the iPad and stuffed it back into his suit.

Even so, Krylov remained skeptical, "How do I know that was not fake?"

The CIA agent shrugged at that, "You don't." he replied simply. "But at the same time, you can't afford to not take that chance."

Krylov let out a dry 'heh' in response, "And even if that was real, I have no guarantee that you will even keep your word."

"True," the spook responded. "But you can obviously see that we have done so in the past and right now you really don't have many options. Your government sent you here for no other reason except for you to die. Even if you survive this war what do you think your government will do with you afterwards? Stick you back in prison? Torture and beat you again?"

The Russian pilot mulled it over. He knew the CIA operative was likely playing him, but the depressing fact was that he knew the operative was right. Duke and Luck stole a glance at each other as they recognized that the spook was actually starting to reach Krylov. Neither of them had even known that there was a small explosive device in Krylov's neck.

"What exactly do you want?" the Russian asked.

"In exchange for accepting any mission we ask of you we will remove the device at the end of the war."

Krylov again took a moment to think about it.

As the CIA operative saw him thinking he added, "You can terminate the deal at any time you want."

"I want this all in writing," he responded. It likely wouldn't mean anything, since no court in the world would be able to review, much less enforce, the contract, but it was a small comfort regardless.

"We'll have a document drafted," the agent said.

The spook then brought both pilots over to a table in the CCIC that had a digital map of the battlefield in real time. "What I am about to show you is classified above top secret," he said as Luck and Krylov followed him to the table. The side of the table had a USB port which the spook used to connect his iPad. The image on the screen changed from a map to advanced design schematics with an accompanying three dimensional rotating model of a fighter jet.

This jet was something that neither Luck nor Krylov had ever seen before. The warplane was large by fighter standards. Its size was just as big as the largest fighter in existence, the MiG-31 Foxhound. The paint on the aircraft was completely white with unspecific United States Navy markings. It had a flat, sleek fuselage with canards and delta wings. Two powerful engines seemed as if they were smoothly built into where the fuselage met the wings and the bird lacked vertical stabilizers. However, the most noticeable feature of this particular plane was what it did not have. There was no cockpit.

Surprisingly enough Luck recognized the machine as the Unmanned Combat Aerial Vehicle concept for the US Navy's F/A-XX sixth generation fighter program, which came in a manned and unmanned version. The manned version was rumored to be under testing while the unmanned version had two working prototypes already built and doing evaluations. The F/A-XX aircraft program was being developed by the Boeing Corporation, which had also developed and built the F/A-18E/F Super Hornet. F/A-XX was supposed to be the aircraft that would eventually replace the Super Hornet as the United States Navy's premier tactical strike fighter.

"Do you know what this is?" asked the CIA agent.

"Yeah, it's Boeing's sixth generation UCAV concept," Luck responded.

The spook then walked around the table and used a clicker in his hand to make the screen switch through data slides as he talked. "It's not a concept anymore. It's real. Last week it was stationed aboard the _Abraham Lincoln_ to conduct tests and evaluations in the pacific. It's got an impressive range of two thousand nautical miles on internal fuel, an arsenal of advanced weaponry, the best sensor suit ever designed, an AI independent of satellite connection, the most powerful turbofan engines in the world, a top speed of mach four, and the ability to pull twenty G's."

"What do you need us for?" Krylov asked flatly.

The spook's face became serious and his jaw stiffened. "Today, a certain politician sent the UCAV to fly out here and perform armed reconnaissance to test its viability in a combat environment against the Navy's advice. When it entered its recon area the UCAV suddenly cut off communication and we lost it. We tracked it with a satellite to find that it landed on Thitu Island. The Chinese had somehow managed to hack into its system and rip control of it away from our side."

Luck's eyes flared at the news. He could not believe the stupidity of such a decision. "Hold on a second. You mean to tell me that someone sent an armed UCAV into a combat zone that had not completed its testing?"

The CIA agent replied, "Please don't pretend you understand the politics behind developing a weapons system in congress. When funding is cut and a weapon system is in danger of being cancelled, the people that backed it have their reputations put on the line. They will rush it in to service to prove itself at any cost necessary," he stated, watching as realization dawned on young Luck's expression, "Politicians will do anything to save face."

Krylov merely scoffed and remarked, "And I thought Russia's leaders were stupid."

The CIA operative then added, "Every precaution was taken and the software was finished. The Chinese managed to take it over anyway, which means that we are going to withdraw our UAVs from combat for a while until we figure out how to keep this from happening again."

The spook then flipped the image back to the digital map and continued, "The Chinese took control of the UCAV in mid-flight and forced it to land. They refueled it and right now they are extensively rewriting its code so that our own hackers cannot retake control of it. We know that they want to fly it back to the mainland so they can reverse engineer it. It has more advanced technology than Lockheed's Raptor and if it fell into their hands they would catch up to us and eliminate our technological lead on them. We brought a cruise missile sub into the area and fired about twenty cruise missiles at the hangar the UCAV is being held in. All of them were intercepted by fighters and SAM defenses since they have heavily fortified all of the Islands surrounding the area and have anti-air destroyers that can be moved into the area from practically anywhere."

"So how are they going to kill it?" asked Duke.

The spook looked at the CAG briefly and answered, "They specifically aren't going to be doing the killing." He then turned to Luck and Krylov. "You are both going to serve as on sight advisors to the real killing flight."

"And who might that be?" asked Krylov.

"A flight of four Raptors that are on their way here as we speak. The Chinese are going to fly the UCAV out to the mainland tonight and we know the path they plan to take. They plan on flying it straight north with fighter escort to land deep in mainland China at one of their research facilities. However, there is a spot where it will be temporarily vulnerable. About the middle of the way there it will be out of range of SAM defenses and will need to rely entirely on fighter escort. We'll have a submarine underneath that area with radar to find and track the UCAV with its escorts. That's when you'll strike."

The map on the table suddenly showed the path that Luck, Krylov and the Raptors were supposed to take. It was a long route that went north around the edge of the Spratly Islands and led to the large body of water between the Spratly Islands and mainland China, effectively putting them well behind the enemy lines and deep in Chinese controlled air space.

"The mission is going to be very long distance. You'll require aerial refueling on the way there and another refueling on the way back from it. Also, we found a way to network Russian and western datalinks last night. We just don't have a proficient way of distributing it to all of our allies in Southeast Asia."

As Luck looked at the map and saw the path he was to take he said, "My Super Hornet's going to need external tanks for this."

"We're outfitting it with conformal tanks as we speak. You'll be armed with a centerline fuel tank IRST, two Sidewinders and two AMRAAMs. There are a few other modifications we're also going to install on both your aircraft."

"That's pretty light for this type of work."

"You and Krylov will serve primarily as advisers on this strike. The Raptor pilots are new to the Spratly's and you're both fresh from the field. Granted, you'll be hanging several miles behind them. If this mission goes well, you two won't have to fire a shot." The CIA agent then checked his watch and said, "I want your planes near the runway and ready for takeoff within two and a half hours. You're both dismissed."

Luck and Krylov both turned towards the door and walked out. Without a word to each other they separated ways to their warplanes.

The spook then looked at Duke, "Washington considers your air wing to be a priority element in this war, though you might not have been able to read all of your emails as I'm sure your inbox blew up like a nuke. Tomorrow the Dark Horses are going to get everything they need to be a full combat air wing. Here's a list." The CIA operative handed him an inventory of aircraft to be added into the Dark Horses.

The air wing CAG took the list and went over it to see exactly what he would be getting. It read:

# | _Model_ | _Operator Nation_

_2_ | _E-3 Sentry AWACS_ | _United States Air Force_

_2_ | _KC-135 Tankers_ | _United States Air Force_

_3_ | _C-27J Spartan Cargo Lifters_ | _United States Air Force_

_6_ | _Sikorsky S-76 Helicopters_ | _Philippine Air Force_

_4_ | _EA-18G Growler_ | _Royal Australian Air Force_

All of the items on the list brought him the full capability of his own small air force. The AWACs provided command and control functions as well as long range eyes. The tankers extended the range of all the Dark Horses aircraft so that he could reach practically anywhere in Southeast Asia. The military cargo lifters were important for supplies, but could also be used as a diplomatic tool for assisting allies if they needed help. The Sikorsky S-76 Helicopters could be used for search and rescue as well as short range transport. Duke already knew that the Growler had proven to be the most valuable tactical aircraft in the theater and had heard rumors that all of the SEAC nations were practically yelling at Australia to send more of them. The only problem was that Australia had only purchased 12 Growlers and had 10 of them completely built with 2 of them going through their final tests and the other 2 shot down at the beginning of the war.

The spook quickly added, "Just to give you a heads up, India is getting very anxious about this whole conflict. They are seriously considering sending some Su-30MKI Flankers or some of their new French-made Rafale fighters. Odds are that High Command will ask them to work alongside your air wing if they do get involved."

Duke nodded in acknowledgement as he knew that India had long been paranoid about a Chinese expansion just like the United States and its allies in Southeast Asia.

"Is there anything else you need?" asked the CIA agent.

"I'll need as many air-to-air missiles as you can give me. I already sent a request through H-Q, but the Chinese keep throwing us drones as cannon fodder that burn through our ammunition. I think we'll have a shortage by the end of this week."

"I'll get right on that," the spook replied. "By the way, Washington wants you to repaint all of your tactical aircraft so they don't look so American. We don't officially have any forces in this region and we don't want the appearance of it either. A crew is coming in tomorrow on one of the transports to take care of it."

"What paint scheme should I use?"

"Whatever you want. I don't care. Just change it," the operative said reluctantly.

* * *

Luck walked back to the Super Hornet hangar. He watched as several contractors from the CIA were loading the conformal fuel tanks onto his Super Hornet with a small crane. He could not help but to notice that they were removing his flare dispensers. Needless to say, this caused some alarm to go through his mind, such that he walked up to one of the contractors and said smartly, "I think I'm going to need those."

The contractor replied, "We're replacing them with something better. Have you ever heard of high heat micro-crystals?"

Luck cocked an eyebrow. "No. What are those?"

"The Chinese have started using infra-red imaging missiles, making flares useless. We've got small radar modules in your aircraft that can detect an incoming heat-seeking missile. Once the missile gets close your aircraft will release a burst of micro-crystals that will create a heat wall between you and the missile, blinding it entirely. The entire process is automatic so you won't even need to think about it. This will make heat-seeking missiles not much of a problem as long as you don't run out of crystals."

The American aviator merely replied, "Well then don't let me stop you," causing the contractor to get back to work.

Just then Frost walked into the hangar. Luck smiled when he saw her. "Hey, Frost. What's up?"

It was then that he noticed the worried look on her face. "Luck, did you know there is a spook in CCIC?"

"Yes, that's what Duke wanted to see me about."

"What was it?"

Part of Luck felt hesitant to tell her about his mission because he did not want her to worry. He rubbed the back of his neck as he told her the truth. "I'm going on a classified mission with Krylov. Other than that I can't share any other details."

Frost's worrisome expression got worse upon hearing those words. She did not trust Krylov to watch his back any more than she trusted the Chinese. "When is the mission?"

"I can't share any details," Luck replied.

Frost knew that usually meant it was going to happen to very soon. In the meantime the British woman took a deep breath and looked Luck directly in the eyes. "Listen, Tony, I have something I need to tell you about me."

Luck looked back in her eyes and could see that whatever she was about to say was serious. The fact she had used his real name as opposed to his callsign made it evident enough. "I'm listening," he said to her.

Frost desperately wanted to tell him about her past. It was something she had been suppressing the entire year that they had dated. She wanted to open herself up to him. However, she quickly realized that with the mission at hand he needed to have his mind focused on completing it without distraction. She did not know if she was using this as some sort of excuse or not, but she eventually decided that this was the right decision. "Nevermind, it can wait. It's nothing important," she quickly added.

This sudden change caused Tony to become extremely curious. "What's going on, Sophie?"

Frost opened her mouth to speak for a moment, but nothing came out. She closed her lips once more and her eyes betrayed hidden fearful uncertainty. For a mere moment her arms were trembling before she crossed them and pulled them tight to her body. Luck could tell she was scared of saying whatever it was she wanted to say. She opened her mouth again but the words that came out were simply, "I will tell you when you get back."

Luck walked forward and pulled his British lover into a caring embrace, which she quickly returned. "Don't be afraid to say anything to me, Sophie."

"Come back safe will you," she replied.

"Sure thing," he replied as he could feel Frost clench onto him tightly.

Luck and Frost both knew the risks of having a relationship between warfighters in combat. At times it could be a mess to navigate and work through, balancing the needs of the mission with the needs of each other. All of it was made more difficult by the fact that each mission could be the last. The two fighter pilots knew the trouble that they were in for, but they did not expect it to escalate to this extreme. Regardless, nothing had changed between them.

From the distance of the Gripen hangar, John watch the two pilots embrace with eyes that were far from friendly.

* * *

As Krylov watched the installers place the micro-crystals and software changes in his aircraft Duke walked up alongside him. The Russian pilot glanced at him upon noticing his appearance so close to the Russian maintenance area. Several of the contractors did not like anyone that was not from Eastern Europe anywhere near their aircraft. The CIA contractors were working on the Su-47, but the Russian maintainers had surrounded them and were watching the whole process very closely to ensure that no tampering was taking place. Krylov honestly thought that the CIA's current goals would make tampering with his aircraft counterproductive for them and believed that the American agency could be trusted under these circumstances, but this still was not going to stop him from observing every move they made with his fighter.

Krylov and his own maintainers watched as the CIA crew took out a few of his computers and hooked up their laptops to them to immediately begin altering software so that the Russian-made network would connect with those of western-designed ones. This would allow Krylov's Su-47 to appear as a friendly on the networks of the allies. One of the Russian maintenance chiefs was looking over the shoulder of the CIA contractor as he added new code to the Berkut's computers.

"You ready for this op?" asked Duke.

"Assuming the CIA does not sabotage my plane, I will be," the Russian replied, an obvious distrust being noticeable in his voice.

Duke's voice then took on a more solemn tone. "I just want to remind you that you and Tony are in this together and I'd like to see you both come back safe."

Krylov looked at Duke directly. He could see that the CAG did not have his serious expression bared and instead looked more concerned. "Are you worried that I cannot be trusted to watch his back?" Krylov asked.

"I would just like to hear some reassurance from you. That's all," Duke said casually.

To this Krylov's lips curled into a grim smirk that was anything but reassuring. He replied with a sardonic tone of voice that gave the CAG a sick feeling deep down in his gut, "Tony and I are the best of friends, Commander," he stated with visible amusement. "I promise I will take good care of him."

Duke narrowed his eyes at Krylov with distrust of his own. The ultimate fact was that there was nothing he could do to remedy this situation; like it or not, Luck and Krylov would be a team in this operation. As such, the CAG of the Dark Horses decided to leave the Russian part of the tarmacs and head over to the Super Hornet hangar where Luck was. If anything, that exchange had made Duke even more unsettled about this mission and about Krylov.

As Duke walked into the hangar he found Luck and Frost in an embrace. Apparently too concentrated on each other to notice his approach, Duke coughed into his fist, causing the two to look at him and then abruptly break when they realized what was happening. After Duke allowed a brief moment to pass in order to lighten the embarrassment, he spoke.

"I need to talk to Luck alone for a minute," Duke said.

Frost nodded and, though hesitant, left the hangar without another word.

Once she was gone Duke turned to his subordinate. "Luck, I want you to stay focused and on your guard the whole time on this mission. I don't know how far Krylov can be trusted."

"Not very far," Luck responded as if it were an obvious fact.

"I know you two have fought each other before," Duke continued, well aware that he was not going to like what he was about to hear. "I'd like to know what happened between you two."

Luck's piercing brown gaze seemed to grow in age as he mentally recalled the events that occurred a year ago. The shimmer that was once in his orbs vanished and made his eyes look as if they belonged to a much older and far more experienced man. Luck was no longer looking at Duke, but his eyes seemed to trail to the horizon. A thousand yards away.

"Krylov is a cold-blooded killer," Tony at last spoke, his voice hollow with once dormant hate. "That's all there is to him; he fights simply because he enjoys killing and revenge. Along the way he has killed several of my friends and my instructor, and he also nearly killed Frost once, even after he'd already shot her down." he grimaced as the image of Sophie's parachute being shot apart came to mind. "It's a miracle she survived."

He then looked back at Duke, who remained unflinching even under his subordinate's hardened gaze. "And as for me, that's a little more complicated. I don't pretend to know what goes through his mind, but from what little I understand, he sees me as the man he used to be a long time ago. He believed that if I had experienced the same horrors of war that he had I would become just like him: another cold-blooded killer and monstrosity."

A slight hint of shame could be seen in Luck's eyes as he continued. "And, to be honest with you, I almost did," he admitted. "Over Siberia, I had the chance to kill him in cold blood," he shook his head. "But I didn't take it. As much as I want him to be put down, I didn't want to sacrifice my soul for it."

He sighed. "Needless to say, I still hate him for everything he's done. And I guess he still hates me for proving him wrong."

Duke took a deep breath as he absorbed the information. "I didn't know it was that deep." He then put a hand on Luck's shoulder. "I tried to volunteer for this mission in your place." This caused his subordinate to look directly at him. "I planned on taking Krylov with me to see if we could work together, but now I see I never understood what kind of man he was to begin with."

As Luck comprehended what Duke had just told him, the CAG then finished with, "Watch your six at all times out there and good hunting." After that, Duke turned toward the hangar exit.

As Luck watched him leave, realization once again dawned on him: Duke actually cared about his well being. Sure, there had been several hints before, namely the incident when Tony had attempted to attack a destroyer with his Vulcan cannon, but this time Duke had directly gone out of his way to at least try protecting him. As such, Luck adopted a small smile. He would never say it out loud, but he was indeed glad to have Duke as the CAG of the Dark Horses.

Just then Luck looked up and spotted a flight of four F-22 Raptors that flew over the air base. He watched as they landed one by one and then pulled up right next to the Super Hornet hangar.

* * *

**Red Crown: As always, more reviews will lead to a sooner update!**


	10. Rehabilitation

_"Cocaine: A drug that is so important that you lie to the people that you love and steal from the people that trust you in order to get high."_

― Urban Dictionary, Description of Cocaine #6

* * *

CHAPTER TEN: **_"R__ehabilitation_"**

**Date: December 20, 2016**

**Time: 2137 hours, 9:37 P.M. (Philippine Time)**

**Location: Island of Palawan, Philippines**

By now the sun had long set and the night was starting to take over the sky. The F-22 Raptor pilots climbed out of their cockpits and headed over to the briefing room. They still had their helmets on and Luck noticed that all of them walked tall with their chests out. Already warning lights went off in Luck's mind over it.

That feeling was compounded further as Luck continued to watch them. On the way there one of the maintenance crewmen for the Super Hornets was walking towards them with a cup of coffee in one hand and a checklist in the other. He was entirely focused on the checklist and did not see the Raptor pilots walking toward him. He accidentally strolled right into them, causing him to spill his coffee and drop his checklist. To Luck's amazement the F-22 pilots merely kept going and did not say anything to the crewmen.

_Great. Raptor snobs. _Luck thought toward the ridiculous display of arrogance. It had been a recent but all around natural development; when the design flaws of the F-22's oxygen system had been filtered out, the Raptor was once again regarded as the best fighter in the US' arsenal. As a side effect, some of the newer Raptor pilots had taken to the belief that they too were the best the US had to offer, and thus developed a holier-than-thou attitude toward those who flew "lesser" birds.

Even so, Luck disregarded it for the moment and went back to observing the contractors as they worked on his aircraft. Within a short matter of time they had his Super Hornet ready and lightly armed with two Sidewinders, two AMRAAMs, a centerline IRST, and clean wings. Luck didn't know what good those armaments would do against the F/A-XX, but the sight of his Rhino prepared was reassuring to him regardless.

Once of the Raptor pilots came out of the briefing room they motioned for Luck and Krylov to come meet them on one of the tarmacs, which they both did so.

"You the Hornet driver we're dragging with us?" the lead Raptor pilot asked Luck.

Knowing this was not going to turn out well, Luck cocked an eye at the Raptor pilots. "Yes, I'm the _Super_ Hornet driver they're sending to _advise_ you guys." he stated, not bothering to hide his ire. "What can I do for you?"

The Raptor pilot went on, "I'll get straight to the point. I want you and Tolstoy over there to stay at least forty miles behind us during the mission," he explained in a snide, commanding tone, "Neither of your aircraft are as stealthy as ours, so we'll need to take care of the mission without you putting us in danger."

Luck sniffed at that. "With all due respect, friend, your birds are only stealthy when your radars are inactive or passive. I doubt you're going to find the F/A-XX like that, much less engage it."

Krylov then added, "And even then, I would think this prototype would have sensors specifically designed to pick up stealth fighters. My country already has such technology."

One of the other Raptor pilots chuckled at that notion. "Sure sure. And it's probably packing laser cannons and proton torpedoes too." He waved his hand at the idea. "Hell, maybe it can make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, no?" he remarked causing a chuckle to emit from the other F-22 pilots.

Luck was starting to worry now. "I wouldn't put this thing down if I were you. Remember this is a sixth generation fighter we're talking about."

"It's a glorified drone," another one of the Raptor pilots shot back. "And a cheap replacement for your weakass Hornet. Not exactly a Cylon Raider."

The last one perked up at that. "Then again, I guess if I were stuck in a Rhino, I'd have a reason to shit myself over this thing."

"Good thing we have Raptors," the second one replied smarmily.

Luck crossed his arms at that, now entirely fearing the worst. Not only were these four arrogant, but stupid too. "You guys really think you'll take this thing down easy, don't you?"

All four pilots sported grins at that. "As easy as smoking Hornet pukes over an open fire," came the reply from the apparent leader, "It won't even be a contest."

The expression Luck gave to that spoke volumes of belief. "Is there anything else we can do for you?" Luck asked, now wanting to be done with this conversation as much as he wanted to be done with the mission.

"As a matter of fact, there is," the leader answered, "I want you both to maintain radio silence. I know you're supposed to be advising us, but to be frank, we won't be needing it. We have a live satellite connection that feeds everything in real time of all assets."

The second Raptor pilot smirked at that. "In other words, while we're airborne, sit tight and shut up." His eyes gleamed down toward the Super Hornet and Berkut pilots. "You both can do that much, right?"

Silence was the only thing Luck and Krylov replied with. That seemed to be enough for the Raptor pilots, as they turned around and headed back to their planes.

As Luck watched them go, he could not help but to feel the mission was already off to a bad start. And not just because the Raptor pilots were assholes._These are_ seriously_ the best the CIA could send out here?_

"These four are fools," Krylov stated, still beside him.

He looked over at the Russian ace pilot and saw that Krylov was looking directly at him. His eyes narrowed at him with disgust. "For once, I actually agree with you."

"If this mission does not go as planned we may very well find that the only other pilot we can rely on is each other."

This time Luck was surprised. _Was Krylov actually making an effort to form an alliance?_ "Why should I believe that I can rely on you?"

"Because it is the truth," the Russian mercenary responded harshly, "I barely trust that the CIA will keep their word and take this explosive parasite out of my neck. Even so, it is still my only chance of escaping and not being locked in prison for the rest of my life."

It was then that Luck realized Krylov was not here in service to the Russian government, but in enslavement. "You have something riding on this too then?"

Krylov's expression did not change as he looked at Luck. A few moments of silence passed as Luck processed exactly what his former adversary was saying. Krylov held little regard for his own life, but at the same time he did not relish spending it in captivity. A shot at freedom from his government was something for which he was willing to side with even his most hated enemy for.

Then Krylov let out a breath from his nostrils. "You must really enjoy seeing me like this, Tony," the Russian said as he searched Luck's piercing brown eyes for a reaction, "Desperate, vulnerable, manipulated..."

Luck's eyes narrowed again, "I'm here for my country's interests," he replied as he walked back toward his Super Hornet. "_Not_ to pity you."

Seeing that they were finished, Krylov himself turned around to walk back to his Berkut. As he did so, Luck couldn't help but spare his adversary one last glance over his shoulder. As much as the American hated to admit it, a part of him did actually enjoy Krylov's suffering.

* * *

There were two main locker rooms on the base. One of them for the males and another for the females. Since Stix was grounded she walked back into the locker room to put away her flight gear for the time being. She reached up to slightly adjust the bandages on her head as she entered the room and walked towards her locker.

Just as she walked into the locker room she found Frost pacing back and forth. The ex-RAF pilot had a necklace with a simple silver cross on it that she always wore. Right now she was gripping the cross like her life depended on it. Her other hand she was repeatedly running through her hair. As she paced she bit her lower lip till the flesh turned a shade that was more white than her already pale skin.

"Frost?" Stix said to get her attention.

Frost froze in place and looked at her friend for moment. The look on her face was one of extreme anxiety that was almost unbearable.

"You look awful," Stix said.

"Thanks," Frost replied with sarcasm.

"What's up?"

"Luck is going on a mission with Krylov in a few hours. He cannot share any details."

Stix eyes slightly widened. "They fixed the datalink problem?"

Frost nodded her head and went back to pacing as Stix opened her locker and began stashing her things away. "Well, it's not like we haven't faced danger before and Luck's proven more than once that he can handle himself so I wouldn't worry. This is just business as usual for us. Worrying wastes time and energy."

"That is not the only thing that worries me."

Stix looked at Frost for a moment curious. "What is it then?"

As Frost looked at Stix her arms began to tremble before she crossed them and pulled them tight to her body. The British woman opened her mouth to speak but then closed it before she could get any words out. This amazed Stix because she had never seen her like this. The Chinese-American was always used to seeing Frost as strong, confident, and sure of herself. Now she was seeing her barely able to pull words out of her mouth.

"Sophie, what's wrong?"

In the end Frost, concluded that the Dark Horses were the closest thing she did have to a functional family and that her best friend would be the best person to talk to. "There are some things about my past that I have never told anyone, not even Luck. I want to tell him, but I have not been able to."

Stix sat down on one of the benches in the locker and patted the spot next to her motioning for Frost to sit, which she did. Frost stared at the floor in silence and kept her arms pulled tightly close to herself. She was clearly trying to work up the strength to speak.

"Alright," Frost said before taking a deep breath. "Before I joined the RAF I was in with a rough crowd. My parents had gone through a bitter divorce and it broke my heart. I got involved with a lot of the scum of my city. I had a huge crush on one of the worst kind of men and he introduced me to cocaine."

Stix' demeanor remained unchanged as if she was not surprised, but instead was listening intently.

Frost continued. "I became quickly addicted to the substance and would abuse it on a regular basis. Pretty soon there was no length I would not go to for it. I would lie to my parents, my friends, and even steal money from my father's wallet. My boyfriend was the one selling it to me. Eventually he cut me in on the trade and I would deal cocaine alongside him."

"You were a drug dealer?" Stix put an arm on Frost's back.

"Yes," Frost responded. "I was in love with him. I was addicted to cocaine and I would sell cocaine. It became my life. My school worked suffered, but I was nearing graduation when the addiction started anyway and had done well enough so that I could afford to slack off. My parents were aware of the problem, but among the divorce and legal issues my addiction was something they put off dealing with for a while. They would scold me and argue with me, but I would throw it all back in their faces. After graduation my addiction spiraled out of control. Eventually, one night it got so bad that I overdosed in my room and almost died…"

* * *

**_Date: July 13, 2009_**

**_Time: 0421 hours, 4:21 A.M. (London Time)_**

**_Location: Royal Hospital, London, United Kingdom_**

_Sophie Noble woke up feeling awful. She looked around and expected to see the settings of her room at home, but was surprised to see that she was in a room with white walls. As she further scanned the room she noticed that there was a lot of electronic equipment monitoring her vitals. She had a large IV needle in her left wrist and several other needles in her other arm. There was an oxygen mask on her face that she could see cloud up with every breath she took. There was also a larger needle that was in her side and she guessed it went straight to her stomach._

_The teenage British woman reached up and touched the side of her head. The right side of her head was already shaved as per her desired haircut and this allowed the doctors to put a small sensor on her scalp that she guessed was monitoring her brain activity. Her body felt extremely weak as she grabbed the oxygen mask and pulled it off of her._

_To the right of her Sophie could hear voices talking. She watched as a nurse walked in before excitedly shouting, "She's awake! Call her father!"_

_Frost faded in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. She felt awful in more ways than one. In between one of her fades she could see the nurses coming back in to take out the needles and leave a tray of food and water near her. Just then a man walked into the room. He wore the dress uniform of the Royal Navy with the ranking insignia of a captain. His eyes were a lively jade green and he had a five o'clock shadow on his face. His body was very lean and his face was a few years advanced in age._

_Captain Robert Noble walked to his daughter's side. As he came closer Sophie became worried that he was going to yell at her and be furiously angry like he always had been in the past. Instead she could see that he was on the verge of tears. He pulled up a chair right next to her and gently grabbed her hand with his own._

_"Sophie, you're finally awake," he said glad as could be._

_It then dawned on her that everyone had been excited merely over the fact that she woke up. "How long have I been asleep?"_

_"Five days."_

_Sophie stared at her father in bewilderment. She remembered passing out on the floor in her room after in taking a dose of powder, but she never thought she would get to this point. "That's not possible."_

_"I thought I had lost you for good," Her father said with tears now running down his face._

_Sophie struggled to sit up. Once she was up her father said, "I do not know what I would do without you. I have nothing else but you. I know I have not been the best father to you and I am sorry that I have let my work consume my life. I will be there for you from now on. I promise."_

_In response Sophie's eyes jaded over and she replied, "You always broke that promise when it mattered to me most."_

_Captain Noble nodded as he acknowledged her words, which had penetrated him like a dagger blade. "I know." Sophie could feel her father's grip on her hand tighten affectionately. "I know I have and I am going to get myself stationed on shore again so I can be here for you. I will leave the Navy."_

_Being stationed on land again meant that he was no longer going to be working with Royal Navy submarines, which had been his life's work and obsession. This idea made Sophie very happy and she smiled at her father. In that moment Sophie saw just how much it would devastate her father to lose her. She had always been angry at her family and she had never cared much for her own life, but for the first time she found herself wanting to change and beat her addiction. She had almost destroyed the only family she had left._

_She soon found tears brewing in her own eyes. "Sorry, father. If you get out of the Navy, I will go into rehabilitation."_

_"Done," he replied._

* * *

_True to his word Captain Noble stationed himself on the shore and began going through paperwork to get out of the Royal Navy. His daughter followed suit and went into rehabilitation._

_Sophie was subjected to an intense Inpatient Rehab Center program. They took away her cellphone and cut off any access to the media or the internet. The only set of clothes she would have would be a white uniform with soft white shoes. She was put into a medically supervised treatment facility that locked her away from all outside contact of the world for three months. She could only describe it as a prison, only it was voluntary and much, much worse._

_The young Briton did not know just how bad her addiction was until she found herself spending the first night on the floor of her "room," which bared a striking resemblance to a cell at an insane asylum with its padded walls and overly cushioned furniture. On a padded table in the middle of the room was a notepad, a coloring book, and a set of crayons. The only reason they gave her crayons was because they were worried that she would try to harm herself if she had a pen or pencil. There was an overly cushioned chair in her room as well as a bed with a memory foam mattress. A small toilet and sink sat in the far corner of the room, each heavily padded just like everything else in the room. A small air conditioning vent was placed in the upper corner of the far wall. The only window was a large circular glass hole in the ceiling that let down a beam of sunlight straight into the center of the room and managed to illuminate everything. The ceiling was twelve feet high so as to make escaping the room impossible if she had somehow managed to break the glass. The door of the room seemed to blend into the wall with its own padding and had a smaller door in the bottom so that the nurses could send her food, water, and medicine. The room was made specifically to ensure she did not harm herself, as its designers knew all too well what kind of creature would be caged within._

_That night, Sophie laid on the floor sweating and trembling uncontrollably. It was common for cocaine addicts to have "the shakes" when experiencing withdrawals and she was no exception. She found herself laying on the floor because the only thing she could feel was a strong hunger for the substance that when left unsatisfied was so painful it was paralyzing. That pain left her too weak to do anything else. She could not even crawl over to the table to use the crayons on the coloring book. Her skin experienced hot and cold flashes. There was a plate of fresh food that had recently been placed in front of her, but she found herself needing to work up the appetite to eat. The only positive thought in her mind was that she had used the toilet right before she collapsed on the floor and would not need to use it again for a while, which would require her to exert herself to make it back over to the far corner of the room._

_The bright jade green eyes she had were wide open and alert as she scanned the surroundings of her room. Despite her body being weakened and craving cocaine, her mind was fully alert and painfully processing every bit of the slow agonizing process of her system flushing out the addictive poison that lingered deep in her veins. This was what Sophie imagined Purgatory would be like._

_The cravings for the substance came in waves with no specific rhythm. A few hours later she would find herself with enough strength to eat, use the toilet, color in the book, and journal her thoughts on the notepad. Within a few hours after that she found herself on the floor unable move again. With each of these waves Sophie lost track of time and did not know the present date anymore._

_One day when the nurses brought her out of the room so she could go into daily counseling and she tried to escape. She broke away from them in a mad sprint for the exit but was quickly stopped and restrained. When the blonde teenager began to elbow and kick her captors one of them injected her with a tranquilizer, effectively neutralizing her ability to put up resistance before they brought her back into the room. Sophie's father had signed paperwork allowing the nurses to do whatever they deemed necessary to keep in her inside and ride the withdrawals out. The British girl made multiple attempts to escape, but was caught each time and only ended up more tired than anything after, which made her shakes even more unpleasant to experience._

_This constant routine early in the rehabilitation program had Sophie slowly wishing that she could just die and end it all._

_And it only became worse as time went on. On another day Sophie went to sleep for a nap and woke up to find a woman standing over her. The woman was beautiful with a very curvaceous figure, her bright wheat blonde hair was straight and fell down to her chest. She wore a black Gothic style dress with long black nylons and black high heel shoes, which stood out in great contrast to the white padding of her room._

_"Mum?" Sophie asked._

_The woman slowly leaned over to look at her and that was when her dark green eyes came well into Sophie's focus. "Hello dear."_

_"Mum, why did you leave?"_

_"Well, Sophie, it is really quite simple," the woman spoke as matter of fact. "It was all your fault. You were not good enough."_

_When she heard this Sophie broke into a tears. "Sorry, mum. I would have been a good girl if I knew it made the difference."_

_"It made all the difference. You should have known that," Audrey Noble responded coldly. "But then, you never truly cared about how_ I_ felt, did you?"_

_Sophie could only sob in response. "I'm so sorry..." she said, before an accusing look flashed in her eyes. "But you still should not have abandoned father for some bastard! He was a good man!"_

_Miss Noble sniffed contemptuously at the notion. "So what if he was?" she exclaimed. "He was never there for us. Never there for _me_. What use is a good man if he is not with those who need him?"_

_Now Sophie was becoming angry. "So that gives you the excuse to do what he did!? Leave me behind just as he left us!?"_

_"It's only natural, my sweet, sweet daughter," Miss Noble replied. "Just as you had your needs, I had mine, and mine required a special kind of physical contact. When your father could not provide it, I had to find it elsewhere."_

_Sophie would have vomited at that idea, but she didn't have anything in her stomach to do so with. "I never heard such disgusting...!"_

_"Oh come on Sophie. You did the exact same thing; you sought an alternate means of comfort like I did. The only difference is you chose substance instead of desire," Miss Noble shot back. "If anything, what you did was far worse; you chose to run away from the reality of it all, whereas __I accepted it and adapted."_

_"All you did was throw me away!" Sophie growled back._

_Miss Noble merely shrugged, very much indifferent. "Some things must be sacrificed in order to gain new possessions. How is love any different?"_

_"Bullshit!" Sophie roared. "You purposely shut yourself off from me because I reminded you of the man you hated; the man that abandoned you! You didn't just let me go because it was convenient, you did it because you saw me as a mistake you wanted to be rid of!"_

_"Indeed," Miss Noble replied, her visage becoming darker as she spoke. "If it weren't for you, I could have walked away from Robert from the beginning. Instead I was stuck with you; a pair of stocks that kept me tied to a failing marriage and a life without love or feeling," Audrey's eyes only grew more intense with each word. "You were the only thing that kept me from a happier life, and I would have given anything to be rid of you."_

_Sophie's eyes widened at her words, feeling her lips tremble from their force. Seeing this, satisfaction appeared on Miss Noble's expression, as if she were enjoying the sight of her daughter in such pain. "But that no longer matters. Now that Robert is finally out of the Navy and 'stuck on the beach' as it were, I no longer need worry about you anymore. Now he can spend the rest of his life looking after you and regretting your existence, and I can pursue my own pleasures..."_

_"You bitch!" Sophie wailed. It was all she could say at this point._

_Again Miss Noble shrugged. "Call me what you wish. It makes no difference, as you are no longer a part of my world." she replied, just as she started fade away from her reality. "Goodbye Sophie."_

_Sophie suddenly realized that her mother was disappearing right in front of her. "Wait! Don't go!" she called out, using what little strength she had to reach for her, but only touching air. Her mother was gone from her life forever._

_When Sophie told her counselor about receiving a visit from her mother they said she was experiencing what some doctors called a negative high, which was where a recovering drug addict would endure withdrawals so intense that they started to hallucinate. The only visitor she ever had was her father who would come every time he was allowed to._

* * *

Frost continued to explain, "After a while when my shakes started to disappear and the poison was completely flushed out of my system they started to give me recreational programs in order to hopefully spark my interest in something. Recovering drug addicts need a hobby or a passion to throw themselves into so as not to return to the addiction. However, I always wanted to fly. My father wanted me to join the military to help me get away and stay clean. I personally knew that flying might have been the only thing that could keep me focused."

Stix asked, "How did you get into the Royal Air Force then?"

"My father pulled some strings and called in some favors. I never had to take the drug test upon entering their ranks and I never had to show them my full medical records either. I went through the training and received my commission without delay. All in all, my addiction lasted a total of about four months, which is short for most drug addicts. I don't have any permanent damages to my brain, but my sinuses were practically wrecked by snorting all that powder. I can barely smell anything," Frost answered.

"I see," Stix said in reply. "Well, regardless of how you got here, I'm just glad you're one of us now."

"I'm worried about what Luck will think if I tell him."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. He loves you, Frost, and I'm pretty sure he would just as well accept you with it. What happened to your old boyfriend by the way?"

"Well, his brother, managed to pull him into the RAF at the same time I was taken in."

"Didn't he have to take the drug tests?"

"He did, but he was never addicted so he was fine. He just sold it and never used it."

Stix then said, "It's scary to think that he might still be in the RAF right now."

Frost merely shook her head, "You have no idea."

* * *

Just like he had been ordered to, Luck had brought his Super Hornet out of the hanger to sit on the tarmac near the edge of the runway. Krylov brought his Berkut out on the opposite tarmac and both fighters were facing nose to nose across the runway from each other. Each pilot was in the cockpit and staring directly ahead, not breaking eye contact for a tense moment. Shortly after that the Raptor pilots brought their F-22s right onto the runway and took off. Krylov and Luck took off shortly behind them. At the same time Luck could not help but to feel awkward beyond reason flying in formation with his old arch-enemy.

* * *

**Red Crown: Happy Halloween! The more reviews I receive the sooner the next chapter will be out!**


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